


What Is A Home

by kabstractoriwi



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lesbian Character, lesbians that arent so soft as well because theyre multi faceted, more stuff that ill tag as i go along, no beta i fucking die, soft lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-07-19 12:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19974160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabstractoriwi/pseuds/kabstractoriwi
Summary: Mymble was a creature of habit, as most tended to be. She woke at the same hours and liked the same types of boys, she did as she pleased and went as the wind blew her. It seemed that all at once her whims had begun to whip her in all different directions, though there was a common thread to the chaos. As the water rose and bubbled over her heart, she found herself intrigued by a new friend called Too-ticky.





	1. Begin

**Author's Note:**

> wow i made a fucking [PLAYLIST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bYA_vvKZEA&list=PLQdw4_EElB3AbfQA8nNQCMRL8N8Yu0K9b&index=1) for u to listen to.

It was November. A certain young woman had had quite enough of caring for the mess of children that belonged so graciously to her mother. Though, that wasn't to say that her mother did not take care of them, it was only that she herself was the oldest of all such children. It was not a formula for a lot of free time on her own part, and so after experiencing a little bit of freedom from it, she had yearned for quite a bit more. 

Mymble stood in a near empty home, of which there were three stories. She stood in the first story living space, it did not very much live up to its name. She sighed a bit, tinged with disappointment, even good old Hodgkin’s Oshun Oxtra was more homely than what stood in front of her. In her paws, a big basket laid, it's weight reminding Mymble that she didn't particularly care. She shrugged and let the feelings of wasted anticipation fade with the tension that rolled out of her shoulders, she had just a bit of work to do after all.

The pantry was just as bare as everything else in Mymble’s new home, so she got to work setting up a few jars of food that she had brought along. It didn't do much to alleviate the emptiness of the space, but Mymble supposed that one only need to place a single thing in any given space and it couldn't quite be called empty any longer. So it was not full, but it could not be described as empty either.

Of the houses that stood so permanently beside Mymble’s, she knew only three of the creatures that took up residence inside of them. The others might as well have been shadows, Mymble did not particularly care about them either. A house that technically could not be described as empty because of her own presence in it, it was not the independence that Mymble had hoped for. She had been more honestly looking for an adventure like she had embarked on with the crew of a certain aforementioned ship that she had once boarded herself.

It seemed that it was just not the way of things that she would end up like that. Even still, if she grew tired of tall houses and shadowy neighbors, she could always move back to where she was before. To say the very least, the loneliness did not bother her very much. There was not much that bothered her other than boredom and broken hearts, and she could make her own fun at least. 

Mymble twirled around the island in her kitchen, her dress flaring out to brush the cabinets and drawers. She had not yet taken her shoes off in her new home, but did not see much of a reason to anyhow. She walked up the stairs onto the second story, in front of her stood another empty space and a hallway on the other side of the room. She didn't care to see what lay at the end of it for she knew that it was only more empty rooms. 

Instead, Mymble turned her eyes to the glass doors that led out to a second story porch with an overhang. She walked out onto it, pleased to see that she was facing the ocean. Without much care, Mymble twirled there too, the cool wind blew past her. There was little sound other than the breeze and her heels over the old wood, Mymble rested her elbows on the railing and her face in her paws. The already small amount of whimsy that she had felt dwindled further and the silence remained. Mymble let out another sigh which pushed uselessly against the gentle spray of ocean water and stood there for a while. Simply taking everything in.

Disappointingly enough she did not stand for an especially long time, there was not much for her to simply take in. There was the ocean, the edges of forest peaking beyond their little stretch of beach, and the other houses around her own. Mymble let her eyes wander over all the closed curtains of all the other little houses, that was, except for one.

A single window with it's curtains not pulled, and through it, although she had had to walk all the way over to the other side of the porch to see, was a creature sitting in a chair. A Hemulen, Mymble saw, and he sat orderly and stared orderly as all good Hemulens did. She thought for a moment and turned away from the rails, then caught sight of the darkened and empty home which she might have returned to. Mymble breathed in, turned, and leaned further over the rails, waving her paws dramatically at the Hemulen. It took a good moment, and just as Mymble had begun to remove a shoe to throw through his window, The Hemulen looked up from whatever he had been reading and caught sight of her.

Mymble put her shoe down quickly and waved again. He opened his window and leaned out it a calculated degree, looking up to her a bit quizzically. She had heard honest to goodness horror stories about long and boring talks with Hemulens, and there Mymble was, doing so voluntarily. He wasn't even particularly cute, and he was much too old for her. She was not bothered, no, but it did leave one feeling a bit desperate.

“Hullo.” Said The Hemulen.

“Hullo there, I am your new neighbor.” Mymble replied.

The Hemulen looked to have held back a scoff, for what reason Mymble did not know. Perhaps it was involuntary, he seemed like the type, still she did not stop to ponder it long. Mymble wished to speak because such a thing pleased her, and as all Mymbles did as they pleased, so too would she.

“You know, I’ve had an odd dream recently.” Mymble began.

“Oh I haven't remembered any of my dreams as of late, it is probably because my mind is occupied with important things.” The Hemulen said.

“I saw an odd animal in my dream,” Mymble continued, “It was a pure white snake with pure white wings, and you'll never guess,”

“Right, I won't, but you see I have been very busy with my boat!” The Hemuland bragged.

Mymble tilted her head, the other creature very much wanted to talk about himself, which was a shame. She wanted to talk about herself as well, and how could she do such a thing if he would not listen to what she was saying. It was as if they were not even really talking, rather stating facts at each other, then receiving those facts like walls of mud. 

Not to mention, he was surprisingly quite a bit of a braggart. Mymble had known that willingly conversing would be oh so boring, but she hadn't expected it to be such an endeavor. She picked the unpainted wood of her porch with a long claw, not really caring if she chipped her own polish. The old wood did not come easily, though some of it splintered off it did not fall apart like it was molded over. For that at least, Mymble was thankful.

“It had bright red eyes.” Mymble finished lamely.

“I do believe that I should go sailing one of these days though winter is so fast approaching.” The Hemulen went on.

Mymble did not often remember her dreams either, but this was not because her head was full of important things. Quite the opposite, Mymble was happy to have a head full of nothing most days. To have a head quite full of many important things at all times seemed more like a headache to Mymble than a blessing.

“That was my whole dream.” Mymble spoke down to The Hemulen who did not in turn look up to her.

“Oh yes, dreams are very important.” He said, although she knew he was simply posturing to begin speaking of himself again.

Perhaps he did not get the privilege of talking about himself very often, Mymble ventured a guess that not many who lived near them spoke much at all. Their little cluster of tall homes was quiet as the grave, and had been since she had moved in. It did not bother Mymble, she could deal with quiet, and in fact, she enjoyed it a fair amount after leaving her mother’s side. It was only that she did not know how much of it she really liked.

Oh well. If Mymble wanted noise then she would create it, if she did not like her home than she would leave it. She was without any roots, no one place was especially important to her then. She felt a bit like the sand on the beach, it might reside where it sat for a moment, but soon the ocean or the wind would kick it up elsewhere.

As she stood with her legs crossed and her middle bent unceremoniously over the rails, a small sound began to plot along the overhang of her porch. Mymble recognized it easily as rain, which fell like little pins dropping onto a hardwood floor. That was to say, very lightly. It was as good an excuse as any, though she did not really need an excuse.

“Yes, it is so terribly cold now. Goodbye.” Mymble said aimlessly and walked back inside, leaving a Hemulen a bit startled at her rudeness.

Mymble padded across the floor again and to the stairs, going up a floor still. On the third of three and looked around at a single room which was in the shape of her roof with a bay window on both sides. Under one window was a bed with no sheets and no blankets. Mymble laughed a bit to herself, hearing the ghost of a chiding remark in her mind for she had forgotten to bring any of her own furnishings. Mymble bypassed her bed to climb onto the seat beyond it, staring out once again onto the ocean. 

It was boring, Mymble had already seen it. She sat and watched it anyway, refusing to let herself sigh any longer. Something would happen, sometime soon if she was lucky.


	2. Demi-Plié

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same [PLAYLIST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bYA_vvKZEA&list=PLQdw4_EElB3AbfQA8nNQCMRL8N8Yu0K9b&index=1) this time around as well

Despite a frankly appropriate amount of weeks passing, Mymble did not end up chasing down any sheets for her bed nor firewood for her fireplace. An appropriate amount of weeks to Mymble at least, was two, and that time had passed in agonizing slowness. 

The funny thing about the passage of time was that it always seemed to incredibly long as it passed in the moment, and then looking back it felt like barely more than the blink of an eye. Mymble knew as she hunched over her dining room table that the moment that she inhabited would look as though it were merely a second in retrospect. Still it felt quite unhappily long to her then, and she had not been able to go out and find anything to alleviate the slowness either.

The little pattering of rain that had begun that day that she spoke to The Hemulen had persisted long beyond any normal rain. It had been going constantly to the very second she spent laying at the table. The ocean had been steadily rising from where Mymble watched it, on her second story porch. She decided then to go and watch it again, though it by that point bored her almost to tears.

She stood from the table, the old chair behind her gave out a protesting noise at the movement. Her heels clacked across the bare floor as Mymble did not often take them off, she hadn’t any carpets after all. Dull clacking rang through Mymble’s ears as she heaved herself up the stairs and to the second floor, it was simply so quiet that her own footsteps sounded a bit like gunshots.

Or, perhaps that was a bit of a dramatic comparison, it was only that such a thing might have made a real gunshot easier to identify. She had walked that same path oh so many times in her solitary two weeks, she felt as though she might have begun to wear holes in the floor. Inane pacing, that was what she had been doing. From the table to the stairs, from the stairs to the porch, from the porch to the bed, and in the morning to the table again. 

Mymble watched the ocean easier from her vantage, and she remembered a lovelier time. Once she had been an island princess, it was quiet then too and she had still enjoyed it. Perhaps it was the presence of friends that made it so much easier to bear, though she had not seen the other occupants of the colonies very often in that time, knowing they were there was a simple comfort.

The dull blue waves reached only about a single foot away from the closest house. Mymble did not know who the closest house belonged to, and cataloged them as a shadow in her own mind. No matter the ocean and all it's constant pushing and pulling, Mymble turned her gaze to the other houses. 

The need to do something was strong within her, even speaking to The Hemulen would not have been excessively bad. Her eyes fell on another neighbor through a window a bit further away from her, through the second story she saw The Fillyjonk who watched the ocean with obnoxiously worried eyes. Mymble had just begun to smile and walk in that direction when the other creature drew her blinds with an incredible force and a look of disgust on her face. The other woman was not much in the mood for a chat, Mymble supposed, her paw lowering from it's aborted wave.

The air smelled of salt, and sprayed ocean water up further than it had in weeks past. The ocean was simply that much closer, and Mymble did not particularly mind. It was almost the problem, she did not mind at all as she returned her gaze to the risen water. She did not mind her waspish neighbors, she did not mind her empty house, she did not mind the days of nothingness that permeated her life.

Wondering was almost like a pastime to Mymble those days, and as she stood in the same place that she stood so often, she let herself fall into the pattern again. Mymble wondered why she did not leave, was she okay in a place like her home? She figured that it simply did not please her to do so and shrugged her shoulders. If she wanted to leave than she would, until that moment the frothing grey sea would be her routine.

But then again,

Mymble grinned widely as a wonderful idea made itself apparent. She had perhaps felt a bit judged by her neighbors since she had moved in, it seemed to her that the closed curtains watched her often. What did that matter to Mymble? She laughed at the realization, what did their opinions matter to her?

As soon as she had made her mind up Mymble was turning on her heel and throwing the glass door open. Her heels clacked hurriedly down the stairs as she ran, jumping from the third to last step. She had almost lost her balance on the floor there, but instead stumbled into a run and threw her front door open as well. Mymble did not stop at the stronger winds, nor did the rain bother her to even shut her door behind her.

Mymble was not bothered at all as she ran down the concrete steps and through the ways between tall houses. Her smile only grew and grew until she was approaching the ocean. The swelling water had swallowed up the bottom couple steps of her path, but she did not slow and the clack of her heels continued in a hastened rhythm. The Hemulen’s boat which she had heard so much about had come untethered by the rising water, it knocked around the shallow water and hit it's stomach on rocks and pavement. 

Suddenly, the sound of her heels on the ground stopped, and Mymble had taken a wonderful leap through the pouring rain and the salty air. She was gleeful and saw herself descending before she really felt the impact. It was hard, Mymble had not seen the seats of the wooden boat under it's tarp, but she had sure as hell felt them. 

The little wooden boat was pushed away from the shallows and further away still until the waves could not send it back. Mymble sat up and rubbed her sore side, laughing at herself, quietly proud of such an incredible leap. Laughter slowed into pleased sighs as the cluster of tall houses became further away.

“I quite needed a break.” Mymble said to herself proudly, “So I will return this boat in a bit. Thank you Mister Hemulen.” 

Mymble began to slide the tarp from under her, trying not to trip in the process and succeeding by just the slightest margin. She pushed it half off and then startled at a pair of eyes that watched her from under the wooden seats. They pushed forward one oar, and then another, which Mymble took without looking away from the small thing.

“Hullo, I'm Mymble,” and then paused to think before adding, “Junior. And you are?” She asked.

The pair of eyes did not say anything back, they only blinked and widened their eyes, shrugging almost imperceptibly from the darkness. If it were a child then Mymble understood quite well that they would be happier to know she was not so old herself, but it didn't seem to help the shy little thing. She did not push them, instead she set the oars where they should have gone and began to row through the rainy sea. 

Rocking boats were not so pleasant, but Mymble did not mind them. She had a better tolerance for those types of things than most, and figured if the little creature did not speak than they would just have to deal with her adventure. She was not in the mood really to be taking care of children, not to say that it was especially hard, it was only that she did not particularly care in the moment.

“Toft.” Said a voice quietly, much too quietly for Mymble to hear anyways.

She continued to row out to sea, not paying much attention to the other passenger of The Hemulen’s boat. It was a bit too bad for small Toft, who clutched the floor of the boat having never been sailing before in his little life. Mymble looked at the cove with the cluster of tall houses that looked much more like small houses the further they rowed. In the distance she could see more of the long stretching beach and the tall cliffs separating them. She was struck by the pleasant appreciation that she had always watched the sea from her home, and then, she could watch her home from the sea.

The boat coasted over waves, raising her vision higher and then lower in a wonderful rhythm, Mymble sat and experienced it, Toft became quite sick. Then, Mymble turned them and began to row sideways with no particular destination in mind. She only knew that she should not go so far out to sea without a bigger boat, especially not in the rain. 

Unfortunately, Toft had begun to become quite miserable and soaked, the rain laid a nice carpet of water in the boat. Any poor, small creature who might have been clutching the ground for dear life would become a poor, small, wet creature. He did not speak up still, for he did not really know how. No one had ever sailed this boat that he lived in, no one had ever spoken to him either.

As unpleasant and frightened as he was, it was perhaps a little bit nice to be addressed by Mymble. She was soaked through as well, so it wasn't as if Toft was the only one. He was thankful for that at least, if he had been the only one he might have felt a bit awkward.

Still, as Mymble looked beyond and smiled to herself, Toft was the one who felt the floor of the boat with his very own paws. To her, who had only her heels touching it, there was little to call home about, but to Toft it was a separate story. He felt a hard thump on the bottom of the little rowboat, and the sliding of something brushing under them. The feeling frightened him to no end, and Toft did not know where to clutch after that. 

Mymble only heard scratching and scrambling under the tarp and shrugged, it did not bother her very much. She did see something though, just the hint of a shadow of something long disappearing into the depths. That, and perhaps something blinking at her through the dark blue waters. 

Chasing after it would be pointless, for it had already disappeared well enough from view down into the swirling obliging ocean. Mymble found herself rowing in that direction anyways, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never find it, but the glee she felt chasing didn't subside. Mymble laughed as water ran down her oars and into the boat, she only rowed harder for she was delighted. She knew not how toft felt, and in that moment, forgive her, but she did not particularly care either.

It was cold and she was soaked, but Mymble made her own amusement that day. Chasing shadows and frightening quiet little creatures, she was quite happy to do so. She would not get much of a chance to steal the boat again for winter was fast approaching, and with it would come something that Mymble could not have anticipated. But then again, was the future so important to her in that moment? Certainly she did not spare it any passing thoughts. 

Many things happened without Mymble anticipating them, she was content to take on the world without knowing it. She was fine to row a stolen boat back to shore as the rain miraculously had stopped for the first time in two weeks and the ocean quietly subsided. She was content to be watched by closed curtains as she tied the thing down again and squeezed water uselessly from just a section of her waterlogged dress. She knew that her neighbors thought her a bit wild, she knew that they scoffed at her from inside their warm homes. 

What she did not know, was that that day, something else had joined her neighbors watching her, though this little something watched from the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [HERE](https://kiwistrashcache.tumblr.com/post/186599859704/from-chapter-2-of-what-is-a-home) is some art i made for this chap
> 
> these short short chapters hehe, theyre more set up than anything else though so my apologies if you find them boring (or maybe insufferable?) 
> 
> to talk about this fic a little more, its in the same style of writing as the mountain path but so far a little more hazy, things are supposed to come into focus more in the future. im incredibly tired of writing in the past tense because god fucking damn i just did like one hundred thousand words of that shit, but this fic is also easier for me to write bc lesbian attraction and romance is more personal to me. it all balances out i suppose, either way im not in any rush here so imma just write wht i wanna write.


	3. Petit Jeté

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [MUSIC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bYA_vvKZEA&list=PLQdw4_EElB3AbfQA8nNQCMRL8N8Yu0K9b&index=1) is the same as last time

It was December. The first day of, to be exact, and not an especially cold one. Still, most creatures had gone to hibernate quite the night before. Mymble had not yet decided if she might join them, she figured that she probably would for she had no reason not to. It wasn't as if she talked much with her neighbors when they were awake, though she couldn't imagine it being very interesting to persist while they all slept. Her mother hibernated some years and not others, but Mymble to the day did not know what informed the woman’s decisions. Probably nothing, It was always a thing of whims with Mymbles.

Mymble sat at her table once again, spinning a coin absentmindedly and tapping the toe of her shoe to the floor. Her own whims were very subtle, she felt that thinking about them too hard made them less of whims anyways. She would wait for the snow and then decide, though she did not really know what would cause her to make up her mind one way or another. Mymble’s life had lacked direction for a good while by that point, though it wasn't as if she hated living in such a way.

Many in her life were wanderers all the same, her mother’s favorite was perhaps the definition of a wanderer and she had traveled with him before and enjoyed it well enough. It was only that she had never considered herself a wanderer, she had been a Mymble. What was a Mymble though? She had only ever known her mother and her family and while some of them wandered, they were not wanderers. 

Mymble didn't think herself so introspective, she didn't think that it suited her to wiggle her mind around such useless things. The problem was that she did not have much else to do, and in those times when she did nothing she had only time to think. The coin turned rapidly, so quick that it looked blurred and unfocused. Against the groove of the wood below it, the coin spun, producing a wobbling noise that hit Mymble’s ears obliviously. 

Coins were cold and thin, Mymble thought, not unlike the air on such a day as the first of December. She stared blankly just a bit over the spinning coin, she did not think of it just as she did not hear it spinning. Mymble was just so slightly unaware of herself, the crash of the ocean against the banks of sand was far away and she could not tell if the tide was low or if she was simply that absorbed in her thoughts.

There was only so much talking one could do before they became quite bored of it you see, and Mymble had done enough talking in her time in the cluster of tall houses. She hadn't ever been an excessive chatter, at least Mymble had never thought herself so, and oh how boring her neighbors were. Would she hibernate? Would she even stay there for the winter? Mymble did not know what it was that even kept her there for certainly there must have been something.

Could it have been, that Mymble had simply become complacent with a calm life by the sea? Certainly not, she was many things and would never just become one. All of her life, Mymble had been a gamut of a creature, and she had always been well aware of the fact. So then, Mymble thought to herself, she must have had some intuition to stay. The young lady shook her head just slightly and realized that her coin had fallen easily onto the table. 

Heads up. It was a whim to be sure. 

Mymble stepped out of her house, closing the door gingerly behind her and walking away just so before she heard it creak open again. Mymble rolled her eyes and walked back to the old thing, it did not close right anymore as it had been slammed shut in the storm. 

“That'll teach me to leave it open.” Mymble muttered to herself and shut the thing again, tugging it closed that time.

She wasn't very sure that it would stay closed, even after watching it as she walked away until it was completely out of her sight. It did not bother Mymble that it might come open, she hadn't anything much for anyone to steal afterall. Wind whipped her loose hair around her face, Mymble was the brightest thing out in the blank world around her. A Mymble would stand out quite poorly in the winter, but the fall might lose her in its colors. 

The walk down to the frothing water line was a bit longer than when she had done it last, but it wasn't an annoyingly long thing. Besides, there was something that Mymble had wanted to see.

When the ocean had receded not so long ago after surging to the brim of the tall houses, it washed up many things. Shells, bottles, a fair deal of garbage, and a large rock. It was the latter that interested Mymble, a tall rock just a bit off the shore. Positioned so that as the waves inhaled they were driven back to the edge of the rock, and when they exhaled it looked as if one was out to sea. She rubbed her paws together, blew warm air onto them, and let her heels dig precariously into the sand. She kicked up cold, fine sand as she walked down.

Looking at the old rock, it was covered in old barnacles and grime, almost sadly it seemed to be dying. If it had only retreated with the ocean than it might still be host to little sea creatures. But it had not, and Mymble only felt for the thing for a moment before all sympathy was replaced with a self chiding chuckle. She felt a bit silly after that, it was only a rock.

“Oh! Hullo Junior.” Came a voice from behind.

Mymble jumped, the ocean had drowned out whatever sound the footfalls of The Hemulen might have made. She turned with a visible grimace, Mymble had never been attached to being a polite young lady, that was apparent.

“You really are not cute enough to be calling me Junior, Mister Hemulen.” She replied, nodding in lieu of a greeting.

The Hemulen nodded back, not seeming to have heard what she said. Of all the creatures, Mymble had expected him to be perhaps the first asleep for the winter, she was quite annoyed that he had not been. He stood beside her, taking a superficial moment to acknowledge the ocean, perhaps that was what he thought she might have been doing.

This particular Hemulen was an easier vapid creature, but a vapid creature all the same, and he did not waste much time for he was very particular about the subject. Mymble turned back to the rock, staring at The Hemulen out of the corner of her eye. He faced the ocean with his own eyes closed in some show of self importance.

“I see you have yet to lay down for the winter, I myself have some business to do before I must!” He forced a certain emphasis on the word ‘I’, that aged Mymble about fifty years each time she heard it.

“Yes.” She said, blankly and uninterested.

“Yes,” He repeated cheerily, “I have to tar my sailing boat before I sleep, most times I do it in the spring, but, well. Actually, every other time I have done it in the spring.” The Hemulen trailed off and seemed to be troubled by something.

Mymble was not listening nor did she notice the other creatures sudden melancholy for she had become bored before he reached the words ‘sailing boat’. Instead, Mymble looked off from the tall rock on the shoreline and down the beach, scanning it like she might have read a book backwards. 

“I have felt odd at times, you know, not as a Hemulen might.” The other creature continued, not noticing that Mymble did not care at all.

It was an unfortunate conversation, not for it's contents, but for its participants. It was like a coin, spinning and wobbling, producing a familiar sound. Had Mymble been paying attention she might have been interested by The Hemulen’s introspection, and had The Hemulen not been such a prattling narcissist he might have learned something about himself. As it was, the coin landed on tails.

Mymble’s eyes caught on something else that stood out by the dreary beach, someone who walked away from her with a striped sweater. Red and white. She cut The Hemulen off with a point, not looking in his direction but rather shouting over her shoulder as she made her way in that direction.

“So sorry, that is my boyfriend, goodbye Mister Hemulen.” Mymble spoke distractedly.

The Hemulen was a bit too surprised to tell her goodbye back, and was left with a small pinch of a hurt feeling in his plump stomach. He only deliberated on how he felt as Mymble ran with her heels digging dangerously into the sand with each step.

As she became closer and closer Mymble saw the other was carrying a fishing pole and walking with bare feet. She ogled the nearly black long toed things for just a moment before remembering her manners and slowing down to a walk. The other creature turned after noticing her and nodded a greeting, slowing so that they might walk side by side.

“Hullo, what are you doing out today?” Mymble asked.

“I am going to where I always go during winter.” Replied the other.

“Oh!” Mymble said without much thought, “You are a girl.” and then wanted to smack herself.

“Sorry, I don't want to assume or offend. Are you a girl?” Mymble asked with just a touch of shyness.

The other regarded her with a tired looking amusement, “Aye.” She replied.

Mymble was pleased to say the least, she had a good feeling about having another lady around. She had no friends her age at the tall houses, and was oh so tired of catching glimpses of The Fillyjonk who seemed to hate everything outside her own house. She smiled brightly, her grin only grew brighter when the other returned a gentle smile.

“I’m Mymble, I live over that way.” She motioned generally with an open paw towards the direction she had fled from.

“You're The Mymble?” Asked the other.

“No no, oldest daughter of.” Mymble replied.

The other nodded her head with a thoughtful look, “I see, I knew that The Mymble was a bit bigger.”

“Try much, my mother is very tall. You are?” 

“Too-ticky.” Said she.

Too-ticky walked on the side of the forest as Mymble walked on the side of the ocean, but the beach had begun to become quite a bit thinner and they both turned towards the blank trees. The bitter wind blew through Mymble’s dress and caused Too-ticky to hold onto her hat with her other paw, without any leaves, the trees did little to abate the coarse blowing.

“I might reintroduce myself if you already know of my mother, it is such a pitiful thing to be confused over a person’s name.” Mymble spun her paw around conversationally.

“Go on then.” Too-ticky prompted.

“Oh that is the problem though, what should I have you call me?” Mymble tapped her chin, eyes pointed at the sky.

“Would Mymlan be okay?” Too-ticky asked.

“Perfect,” Mymble said, “Hullo, I'm Mymlan, and you?”

“Too-ticky.” The other woman chuckled a bit behind her paw.

It almost caused Mymble to beam, she felt the best she had in weeks just making someone laugh. She could already tell as the two walked by naked bushes and stark trees, they would get along quite well. 

After a while walking, the ground turned from hard packed dirt to loose sand, and the two walked out onto the long strip of beach again. In the distance, Mymble could see a skinny building, supported on stilts out into the gray sea. She realized belatedly that she had not asked if she could accompany Too-ticky, but then again, Mymble would go as she pleased. She ended up following the other woman up and past the walkway, into the building.

Inside it was dark and a bit dusty, Too-ticky made her way to the furnace first and began to place firewood in it. Mymble did a quick spin, her dress flaring out in the small space. Eight walls, reaching up to a ceiling that was much too dark to see. Tall windows to match, green and red, dusty enough to obscure the world outside. Mymble nodded to herself and backed up a bit, surprised when she knocked into a bench behind her. She sat politely with her paws in her lap, waiting as Too-ticky began to light a fire.

“What purpose is there for a stove in a bathhouse?” Mymble asked the ceiling.

“What purpose is there for you or me?” Too-ticky replied, catching Mymble fairly off guard.

She blinked owlishly at the other creature before speaking, “You are quite right!” then crossed her leg and propped her head up with a paw.

Too-ticky didn't seem to have anything else to say after that, Mymble took her for a less talkative woman. Quiet was easy, Mymble was comfortable enough in the quiet, though not many would know such a thing about her. She figured most would take her for a lady who loved the sound of her own voice, and, well, they would be right. It would be such a pitiful thing not to, wouldn't it? Yes, Mymble loved herself and she was pleased with most things pertaining to the topic, but that was not quite the point. 

She could let quiet sit, and she could sit easily beside it. Quiet was such a timid thing, shy and uneasy, it had a tendency to make those around it just a little uncomfortable as young awkward things often did. Those without much experience would continue to talk and talk for they could not bare quiet, and hoped to banish it. But Mymble, she had experience with quite a few children, she could be patient and listen to them, sitting beside them easily. Living with the quiet was not unlike that.

She only watched Too-ticky build the fire in the stove, impressed for the other woman was very good at it. She watched and was quiet, that was until she felt something scurry across her foot and she let out an involuntary yelp. Too-ticky, who had been leaning under the rim of the stove was startled as well and shot up, bumping her head. 

Both shoes hit the ground and Mymble bent over searching earnestly for whatever little thing had ran across her shoe. She saw nothing, even with the light of the stove illuminating under her seat. Mymble looked up confused and Too-ticky rubbed her head with an apologetic tilt to her smile.

“The shrews.” Too-ticky said, “terribly shy, they won't come out if you look for them.”

“Oh I see,” Mymble said and bent between her knees again to look under the bench, “I’m sorry if I’ve made you all uncomfortable, shrews.”

Too-ticky pulled an old teapot from a box and brushed it off, she placed it on the bench beside where Mymble sat and looked for something else. Mymble picked up the old teapot and brushed the dust off of it with her sleeve. She felt it was heavy, a bit too much so to be empty, and opened it. she found something a bit startling inside. 

“Oh, Little My is sleeping here.” Mymble said, placing the lid back on.

As the surprise wore off Mymble still found herself a bit shocked at the fact. She hadn't seen her sister in a long while, perhaps not since they had both been adventuring on The Amphibian. Or maybe a bit after then, Mymble did not know for sure, she could not always keep her little siblings separated in her mind. Mymble wondered if it was the same for her mother and smiled down at the teapot.

Too-ticky looked up from the box, “Ah, so sorry Little My.” She said, and put the teapot back where she had found it.

“I suppose we can't really have tea now, hm?” Mymble said easily.

“Aye, we cannot.” Too-ticky nodded.

“That's alright, do you mind if I might talk to you instead?” Mymble asked.

Too-ticky shook her head in an easy way and sat on the opposite side of the table. Mymble turned to face her and felt many pairs of feet running across her shoes again. She didn't jump, but the sensation still caused her a bit of unease. Instead she watched as Too-ticky placed a smaller piece of firewood on the table and took a grizzly looking knife from her belt. The woman began to carve as Mymble spoke.

“I have just moved in to the cluster of tall houses over there” she waved her paw in the general direction again, “you see,”

“I do.” Too-ticky nodded.

“And it is alright, but that is a bit of the problem. It is only alright.” Mymble said.

The other woman remained silent, listening as she ran her knife through the wood smoothly. Peels of wood fell to the table littering it in curling pieces, Mymble was temporarily distracted from her thought by the grace of it.

“And, yes, well, you’d think that a Mymble like myself would be swimming in boys, but it's been rather lonely.” She finished with a silly grin.

Too-ticky laughed again and Mymble was secretly very pleased. Considering her boredom and her intuition telling her to stay despite it, Mymble thought of the benefits of having a friend. She liked Too-ticky, the other woman was composed and friendly, and most of all she was easy to make laugh. All were good qualities in Mymble’s book, so she went on.

“What do you think I should do about the loneliness?” Mymble asked.

Too-ticky looked up from her work, still smiling, “Mymlan, only you could know for sure.”

“Hm, I suppose you are right.” Mymble admitted, though she felt the answer unhelpful all the same.

Outside, the wind picked up and began to make a whistling noise outside the dusty windows. Mymble looked out them still, even though she could not see from them, and sighed with the wind. It was a nostalgic feeling then, she had spent many nights with her siblings, holding them by a window as a storm howled outside. 

Then it had been dark, and she had been comforting many crying children. As it stood for her on the first day of December, it was light, and in front of her sat a new friend. Still, the feeling was roughly the same.

It was odd to Mymble how a mind worked, and why it spoke to her in the way it did. She felt that it was nearly without reason that she might have the same song stuck in her head listening to the wind as she did when she sang it to calm her siblings. Why did the slightest familiarity produce such a feeling? Mymble did not know, and so she hummed the tune.

“Would you like to hear a dream that I had just recently?” Mymble said after a while.

Too-ticky nodded again, the wood in front of her had begun to take the semblance of a pig, round, with three legs. Mymble eyed it for just a second before speaking.

“I was standing in a field of cotton, and it sprang up over the hills. They were big rolling hills, they looked almost like waves. I was walking, and it was easy at first, but then the cotton kept getting higher as I went along. Soon enough it was up to my nose,” Mymble said with a soft voice, “my heart was telling me to go further, but I stopped for just a moment. And then I woke up.” 

The other woman looked back down to her work after considering Mymble for a while. The pig became more easy to picture, and sure enough, it had three legs. Mymble looked down at her shoes, she had felt something stop and sit there, the sensation did not bother her any longer. She reached down and picked the invisible thing up, rubbing a finger where she thought the head might be.

“I had a dream not so long ago.” Too-ticky said glancing up at Mymble, and when she said nothing, Too-ticky continued.

“I was blind. And wandering.” Too ticky recounted, “From time to time, I felt paws on my back, pushing me in a direction or turning me. I could feel that the hands were invisible, not sure how I knew, I just did.” 

“What happened?” Mymble asked curiously.

“I'm not quite sure, my dreams don't seem to be as clear as your own. I only remember waking up and thinking that were I blind, than all manner of creatures would seem as though they were invisible.” 

Mymble nodded. She didn't understand but the words stuck with her somehow, she could almost feel as they fit into the recesses of her mind. Too-ticky was an interesting friend, Mymble was pleased to have found her.

They spoke, Mymble more than Too-ticky, until the sun had begun to lower. Then, Mymble stood and promised to visit again in the coming days. Too-ticky promised that she would have a vacant teapot by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noice, finally getting to the good stuff. im excited to get through this story, it might end up a little longer than i thought tho.
> 
> as for my notes on this chap, i actually like mister hemulen, he was kind of my favorite in moominvalley november. too bad hes kind of a pitiful guy, oh well. 
> 
> also! ive really appreciated all of your comments! i didnt really think i would get any at all, yall warm my heart : )


	4. Penché

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same [MUSIC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bYA_vvKZEA&list=PLQdw4_EElB3AbfQA8nNQCMRL8N8Yu0K9b&index=2&t=0s) as last time

Waking was an idle thing, one never remembered waking up. The feeling of emerging from long forgotten dreams was elusive, Mymble felt that there must have been some feeling in it, but did not ever wake and remember it. She also wondered sometimes, if perhaps there was nothing special about waking, and that the haziness one felt as they woke was just that and nothing else. Still, later in the days when Mymble might try to recall her waking moments, she did not ever remember opening her eyes.

Slowly, the young woman woke on a bed with sheets and blankets, and she laid there without thinking of very much. The white light from a sun that had been filtered by clouds poured in past her head and onto her feet. Her face was pleasantly shadowed for the window was high enough that the sun might brush her awake, but it never roused her unpleasantly. Most of all, it made it so that she could lay her heavy lids closed once again.

Under no circumstances did Mymble want to push her blankets off and get up, she slept mostly in the nude, and the air was cold in her room. It was possible that undergarments only as a women's sleepwear was a foolish thing, especially during the winter, but Mymble had never been called wise. 

Though, she was due to visit her friend again that day, the thought alone made Mymble’s eyes snap open. She sighed and stretched, bringing her arms above the thick blanket and exposing them to the awful cold. Mymble had experienced much worse, at least that was what she told herself as she ripped the band-aid off and rose from her bed. She did not dress, and instead walked down to her bathroom and began to draw a bath.

The warmth of the water ran over her paw as she tested it, a bit too hot really, and Mymble sat on the rug beside her bath. The sleep had not yet run from her tired body, she rested her head on the rim of the tub. Mymble’s eyes ran along the counter of her sink, and then through the rest of the bathroom. There was nothing there, a stark contrast to the bathroom she had shared with twenty odd children when she was younger. 

Once upon a time, Mymble hated not having a bathroom to herself, it was one thing that had genuinely distressed her. As she sat, growing more exhausted by the second, Mymble felt that tell tale loneliness again. The water pouring out of her faucet gurgled away, dropping heavy water into the tub, but she did not really hear it. 

What was loneliness truly? What was the opposite of it? The answer seemed simple to Mymble when she had not really thought about it so hard, but the more she stared at her empty bathroom the more it was obscured to her. Her mind only conjured one thing, the opposite of loneliness was not being lonely. To be frank, the inelegant answer only exhausted her further.

“That's not really the answer.” Mymble mumbled to herself and rose from the floor.

She turned the faucet off and watched it let out a hesitant line of escaping droplets, slowing until it closed off completely. Mymble slipped into the tub and let the water blanket her up over her nose. She blew easy bubbles under the warmth of her bathwater, each one formed and popped about as quickly as her thoughts had. She was all the lighter for it, and eased back, submerging herself fully for a while.

Under the water, the warmth eased something in her mind, Mymble came up and took a deep breath. Smiling then, she cleaned herself and got up again, the cold air was twice as uncomfortable as when one was not wet. Still, Mymble dressed in a long sleeved dress and left her towel on the floor for she did not care particularly about a mess. Her house was near empty still, she felt almost sardonically that a wet towel might have been added decor. 

Mymble stepped into her pantry, laying some jars in her arms before placing them in a waiting basket near the door. She slipped on her bright red boots and knocked the tip to the floor once, and then twice, just admiring them for a brief second. Then, picking up the basket and deciding that she looked very cute, Mymble began to walk down to the beach. 

Before she got too far away, the telltale sound of her creaking door stopped her in her tracks, surely it had come open again. Mymble felt a bit silly then, and sighed before running back to tug the thing fully closed and sprinting off towards the beach. 

As Mymble ran, she noticed the ocean beside her had begun to spit up chunks of frozen ice. The pieces were ground down by the pushing and pulling, and then at the size of perhaps a window pane, were laid out on the shore. They reflected bits and pieces of the overcast light from above, bright eye catching things, very cold and seperate. 

Being cold was easy, Mymble thought, and it was true in many ways. A body worked so hard to keep itself warm, burning energy and expending everything just to create heat. In terms like those, it was a battle to keep warm, one that most things fought for until they died, giving in to the cold and resting eternally.

Being cold was easy, Mymble thought, and again, it was true in many ways. Showing the hurt and the cold to others, hurting them and making them cold in return, was easy for many reasons. It hurt to be genuine, it was embarrassing to bare one’s truest self to another. To crack open a creature so that they might show their warmth, it was not the path of least resistance to be sure. 

Groke knew, being cold was easy, being separate and being dead were some of the most natural things in the world. They were like resting positions, that which one might slip into if they had not paid themselves attention. It reminded Mymble about when she was young, she had had a problem with slouching.

She was not always such a confident young lady, nor had she always been so brave. It didn't show in many ways, certainly not in enough so that her mother might have seen, but it did show. To those who looked hard enough, they might have noticed that Mymble had once walked with her shoulders perpetually forward. It was natural to her, and when it came time for Mymble to begin loving herself, she tried desperately to fix her slouch.

When she thought about it, It was easy to ring her shoulders back, walking with her chest forward and her nose tilted upwards. But she did not always think about it, and when she did not think, she went back to what was natural and practiced. As Mymble slowed from her sprint and began breathing just a hair heavier on the fine sand of the cold beach, she lifted her head again. She had reminded herself, but when she went to bring her shoulders back, Mymble found that they had already been where she wanted them to be.

That was simply the thing. As Mymble stretched for good measure and began to walk into the naked forest, she was quietly proud of herself. Slouching was not natural anymore, she had learned a much better habit.

It was easy to be cold, Mymble thought, and in many ways she was right, but she knew from experience, it was also easier than one thought to be warm.

Walking out of the woods and back across the beach to the bathhouse, Mymble swung her basket back and forth as she went. Her rubber boots did not make such a distinctive noise on the old wood as her heels had. The door was closed with such a sense of silence Mymble knew in the back of her mind that no one was around. She knocked still, and was not surprised to have garnered no answer.

Nonplussed, Mymble stepped back and considered herself, spinning a bit just to pass the time. Her dress was heavier and did not flare out so much, which was not as cute as Mymble hoped it might be. Coming back another time would be frankly useless, Mymble did not have anything else to do other than see her friend. She sighed and stopped spinning to settle her gaze on the forest, wondering where exactly Too-ticky was.

In her wondering, she missed the approach of something from the sea.

“Psst.” Came a scratchy voice.

Mymble shrieked, for she was a less calm creature than perhaps another. Whipping around to the source of the sound, Mymble spotted a creature clinging to the wooden poles of the dock, hair splayed out around it, obscuring most of its features. She put a paw on her chest and heaved a shaky sigh before really looking at the other creature. They waved her in closer and she obliged, getting to her knees and hanging her head over the old wood.

“Hullo, I don't suppose we've met?” Mymble asked the other.

They beckoned her closer still and she leaned in, straining to listen as the other creature climbed up just a little further from they're pole. Quite suddenly, the creature gained a sharp grin and they surged forward in an instant. Mymble’s eyes widened as she processed within a millisecond what was happening, and had no time to rear backwards.

The other creature shot out one clawed paw and grabbed, tearing the lace from the neck of Mymble’s dress. They sunk back into the water with an unnatural grace for the rate at which they moved, and disappeared completely before Mymble had the bright idea to throw herself backwards. Her chest felt all the more cold as pieces of her dress had come with the lace, and the wind hit her directly when she clattered backwards onto her bottom. 

Sitting there, shocked, Mymble looked forwards without really seeing anything, and then put a paw to her exposed neck. She paused for a beat, and then laughed very very loudly. 

“Could you not have asked?” She shouted between peals of bright and bodily laughter.

Mymble wondered as she laughed, if perhaps a winter in Moominvalley would be more exciting than the fall. Mymble felt her eyes upturned, and even as her laughter died down into chuckles and then still into hummed bits of joy. She watched the ocean with a grin until out of the corners of her vision she caught something red. 

Mymble stood and dusted herself off, running over the dock and down to where her friend was emerging from the woods. The other wobbled under the weight of several blankets, though she carried then none the less. Mymble, upon reaching her friend and skidding a bit past before righting herself and taking up Too-ticky’s side, offered her own arms. Too-ticky obliged with a bright smile.

It struck her differently, that simple thing. Just the fact that it was so apparent was nearly the most distracting thing about her smile, Mymble was momentarily confused as to why she liked it so much. The weight of her blankets brought the young lady well enough back to the present, and she accepted them and rushed ahead and across the dock to open the door for her friend.

The door swung open, sending the bleak light of overcast skies into the empty bathhouse. Mymble peaked inside before looking back to Too-ticky, who had begun to walk a bit quicker upon noticing Mymble’s gesture. It was awkward to be honest, Mymble had rushed ahead much too quickly, and all she had to do as she stood with a stiff arm at the door was look anywhere but Too-ticky.

Stupid. It was a really dumb move. Mymble shrugged her shoulders and let the bashfulness roll off of them. Too-ticky caught up eventually and thanked Mymble as she walked in, dumping the blankets on the old worn bench. Mymble followed her in and put her share of fabric down there as well. The basket Mymble had been carrying tilted over as she had leaned, and a jar came rolling out before she could snatch it out of the air.

Warbling, rolling glass sounded from under the table along with the pittering of small creatures scurrying out of the way. Mymble sighed and placed her basket on the table, getting down on her knees over the bench to reach for it.

“What have you got there?” Too-ticky said, somewhat distractedly, from above.

Mymble sighed again, more exasperated that time, “It was supposed to be a nice little surprise, but I did bring food.”

The jar rolled just a hair out of Mymble’s reach and she strained for it nearly pathetically. Glass was cool and smooth, and as Mymble’s fingertips brushed the jar, succeeding in pushing it away further, she briefly appreciated the sensation. From under the shade of the old table, the jar filled with pomegranate jam looked a lovely shade of red. Darker than the color that Too-ticky wore, but Mymble figured her friend would look very nice in any shade.

Mymble let out an “Oh!” as Too-ticky leaned over the bench on the opposite side of the table.

“Hullo.” Said she.

Mymble felt something warm inside her and grinned out a “Hullo.” back.

It was only really one swipe from Too-ticky and she had already procured the jar, looking it over once before placing it on the table in front of her. Mymble got up and rubbed a sore spot on her hip, then took the other two jars from her basket and placed them next to the first.

“Pomegranate jam, artichoke hearts, and honey.” Mymble gestured to them.

Too-ticky walked around back towards the stove, “I believe I have the perfect match for each,” She began.

Placing them down one by one, Too-ticky set out crackers, a few slices of bread, and a teapot. And empty one, Mymble believed, or at least she hoped. Mymble smiled and unsealed a jar, listening peacefully as Too-ticky began to heat water. 

As they sat again, behind crackers and tea, Too-ticky pulled a blanket into her lap and produced a needle with thread. It was then that Mymble realized all of the poor fabrics were very ripped and old, dirty to be sure, though that was an easy fix. She would pull a few stitches and then take a sip from her tea, Mymble watched the display closely.

“You are a jack of many trades.” Mymble admitted.

It gave Too-ticky pause and she looked up from her work, “Aye, I can fix anything.” she said in a humble tone.

“What a skill!” Mymble scooped a bit of artichoke onto her cracker and ate it without much grace, “Do you think you might be able to fix my door?” 

“Aye.” Too-ticky said, pulling more stitches into the blanket, and then asked, “Do you sew?

Mymble thought about it, the answer was by all means, yes, yet she still felt the need to deliberate. She could sew about as much as one should have been able too, which was to say she could mend holes and reattach buttons. She was very very good at reattaching buttons as little things tended to pop them off earnestly.

“Yes I suppose.” She said, looking down at her bread and jam.

“Hm.” Too-ticky gave, “Is there a story there?”

“Oh no,” Mymble said, “I was only distracted a bit, thinking about my family. My younger siblings rip clothes as though it is their duty to do so.”

Too-ticky laughed, punctuating the bright sound with a tug of her needle, pulling the stitches taut. Mymble watched the process and felt as though it might as well have been her sewing then. Or perhaps it might have been that she was the blanket. The thoughts swept past her in a quick way that didn't make much sense, the only thing that stuck was a tugging in her chest that corresponded with the tugging of Too-ticky’s needle.

“Is that so? I'm sure you must be better at it than me then.” Too-ticky joked, “The Mymble has many children doesn't she?”

Her eyes glanced up though Too-ticky’s head was still turned down to her work. Her gaze pinned Mymble in a light and breezy way, prodding her as one might have elbowed their friend. Mymble laughed, breaking her own eyes away to spread jam over another little slice of bread. 

“It was a lot of work. You are right there my friend.” Mymble shook her head humorously, “I’m a bit hard headed though, no matter how many dresses I mended, I never really got any better.” she shot the same conspiratorial gaze back.

Too-ticky laughed back and closed her eyes with a grin. Mymble lifted her little slice of bread and reached over the table, holding it up to Too-ticky’s nose. As the other woman blinked and looked cross-eyed at the food, Mymble scooted a bit closer. It was only a moment later when Too-ticky accepted it from her hand.

“Thank you.” She said, pulling the needle through a few more quick stitches and chewing the sweet thing.

Mymble leaned back in her own seat and nodded, “Of course.” she said.

The sun never moved any quicker, Mymble knew, it was very must set in its ways. It was the earth that moved around the sun who was to blame for the long dark days. It wasn't as if it had even began to become dark as she had such thoughts, but Mymble pondered anyways. There was a bit of sunshine in every living creature, Mymble believed, even if it was just the most miniscule amount. Perhaps even the groke had just a fraction of a fraction of sunlight. That sort of thing did not change.

The sun was steady, and reminded Mymble of a phrase that her mother would say. ‘I will always love you, no matter what.’ that was a bit like the sun. Children were most like the sun, Mymble knew from experience, and she did not consider it an inherently good thing. They were ornery and steadfast in their wants, to be frank they were at times painful to deal with. This was not an inherently bad thing either, and with it came a degree of innocence and a much coveted belief in good.

If the sun became too bright then it would burn everything up, if it had become too dim it would freeze everything out. There was an art to balancing, something that made circus acts and tightropes so captivating. Mymble shoveled more jam onto her bread and a glob fell off onto the table below. She considered it for a while and then swiped it up with a finger, balance was a dedicated and necessary thing.

That was why children had parents, Mymble supposed. To nurture their light and allow them to cool, so that they might carry warmth into their own adulthood. The sun never moved any quicker, it remained and let the world adapt to it. To balance it. To find balance, Mymble believed, that was part of growing up. That, and making a home.

“You know,” Mymble began, “My mother has made a house for herself in a proper Mymble way.”

“What is a Mymble’s way?” Too-ticky asked, not looking up from her work.

“Oh, you know, a traditional Mymble way?” she said, gesturing loosely with a paw.

“What is traditional for a Mymble?” Too-ticky glanced upwards.

“Many many children, having around a cute boy or two, a nice warm home.” Mymble listed off, “I've wondered if following her example might make for a warmer home myself, but those Mymble type things haven't really interested me as of late.” She tapped her lip absently.

“Well,” Too-Ticky began, sewing a bit quicker then, “No other should truly have a say in the way you might choose to live your life.” 

Mymble brightened and agreed readily. She placed a sizable amount of artichoke onto a cracker and leaned over the table again, Too-ticky being more prepared took the snack easily that time. 

“Thank you.” She said through the food in her mouth.

“Of course.” Mymble replied, leaning back into her seat.

She was a nice balance, Mymble figured, and considered her friend for a moment. It was part of what was so admirable about Too-ticky, at least to Mymble, she found the other woman to be a nearly perfect ratio of sun and shade. Mymble slipped and wondered briefly how Too-ticky might have seen her, and then pulled her mind away from the thought. It wasn't very cute to obsess over what others thought, Mymble knew. After all, they could be thinking some very nasty things.

Rude remarks were commonplace with Mymble, especially when she traveled, for not all we're so kind as her mother’s favorite and his friends. She wondered if that was a bit of her sunlight slipping away, not mucking up a fuss over every useless comment. If so, then it wasn't an incredibly bad thing, perhaps she had been excessively bright before.

Once, Mymble had been told she possessed a head full of rocks, to which she replied with a thank you. If she had a head of rocks than surely she could balance what others told her was her airheadedness and not float off. Mymble quietly snickered, shade was oh so funny sometimes.

A patch of light had poked through the clouds and into the windows, casting green and red light onto the table between Mymble and Too-ticky. It warmed Mymble’s hands for a while and then faded back behind the clouds. Pleasant, she almost wished it back.

“Dear friend,” Mymble said.

“Hm?” Too-ticky sounded back.

“What do you think might make my home a bit warmer?” She asked for she had been struck by just how cold and empty it had been before.

“A fire might.” Too-ticky offered.

A sharp smack brought Too-ticky out of her trance, Mymble had slapped her forehead with a tight look on her face. Her nose and eyes were scrunched up and one could nearly see her roll her eyes from behind her closed lids for the motion was that hard and exaggerated. Of course a fire, what else?

“Perhaps my head really is full of rocks.” Mymble gave a sigh and slid her paw down her face.

“Is it?” Too-ticky asked, “I quite like it. I'm glad for the rocks.” and went back to her sewing.

“I must admit, I am no good at fire starting.” Mymble said, “You wouldn't be able to help me would you?” 

Too-ticky laughed quietly and gathered the blanket in one arm, tying the thread then snapping it with her teeth. She stood and tucked the needle into her hat, “I don't see why I could not.” she said, and offered Mymble a paw up.

Mymble took her paw and stood, turning to quickly screw the lids back onto her jars. She placed another blanket into her basket instead of replacing the jars there. She figured it would be easier to leave them at the bathhouse, she would be spending much more time there in the future. Mymble offered her free elbow and Too-ticky took it in her own, they walked together to the door where Mymble struggled for a second to open the knob.

The sun had still not yet set as they walked to Mymble’s house. It would not for perhaps another good two hours, though that did not matter. The two women walked and breathed out, their breaths just beginning to fog in the air around them. Too-ticky would help Mymble build a fire in her fireplace, and Mymble would not learn how to do it from watching, for she was hard headed, and bright like sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweet :, )
> 
> not a lot of action in this one, i tried to not make it too wordy but i have stuff to set up yknow. i feel a bit like im full of hot air, but i know im a little hard on myself at times. I hope yall enjoyed this chapter.


	5. chaînés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same [MUSIC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bYA_vvKZEA&list=PLQdw4_EElB3AbfQA8nNQCMRL8N8Yu0K9b&index=1) although i recommend shuffling it 
> 
> ALSO! trigger warning for blood in this chapter!!!! pls dont read if you are uncomfortable with it, its written about semi vaguely but i don't wanna trigger anyone

There was an old broken up chair on Mymble’s second floor porch, worn in a way that was not comfortable. Rather it was awkward and leaned back too far, the armrests splintered terribly. There sat Mymble, in Mymble’s armchair with a book held haphazardly in front of her as she scanned it aimlessly for bits and pieces that she would like. It was a cold day to be spending outside, especially if one were to sit and not work up any sort of warmth through movement.

The chair was new, in a manner of speaking. It had not been on Mymble’s second floor porch before, so in that sense it was new. She flipped a page, then another. The book was new in that sense too, but it might as well have not been. Mymble had read the same story over and over again, and there was really only one thing that kept her invested.

Romantic subplot. 

She could slog through a thousand different stories about adventure and the like, but she’d never enjoy them without something romantic. So there she sat, in her broken down chair, being strung along through the last couple pages of a book she didn't really like. The ocean in front of her had been spitting up larger pieces of ice that collected on the beach like shells. Some of the largest chunks coasted further out, Mymble figured that they would be staying there.

Sure, Mymble could have just picked up a purely romance book instead of picking through other literature for pieces of something her heart ached for. She could do that in theory, but found that most purely romantic stories that she had read were lacking something.

Another page flipped with all the deft and precise action of a woman reading something she did not really care about. Mymble sighed as she focused back in for a moment, the story was dragging on painfully for the protagonist had been in the same place for nearly the entire chapter till that point.

She stood up and walked to the wooden railing with the book still in front of her. It wasn't what she had wanted, but at least the protagonist was getting somewhere. The hero had to save the beloved by pressing through the ocean in a terrible storm, Mymble shut the book with a soft thud and placed it on the rails. She was quite bored with it.

“They’ll both be fine in the end.” she grumbled quietly to herself, “That's how it always is anyways.”

A definite thought crossed Mymble’s mind that felt like ringing in her ears, she frowned and looked out over the turning ocean. Such a constant force of change the ocean was, soon it would be frozen over. Mymble thought, perhaps she was done with romance? It was a saddening thing to think, especially for her who had championed it since she was just a little thing. 

Certainly not, how could Mymble just be done with love? She loved love, it had always been such a bright thing to her. Then again, perhaps Mymble was not so bright anymore. She ran a finger over the cover of her book, tracing the title. It didn't feel any different from the rest of the book, but it was supposed to be important. 

What was the distinction? She wondered about that, perhaps it was important to someone else but it meant nothing to her. Mymble considered pushing the book off her railing and watching it fall to the ground below. It would look like a mess of pages splayed by the wind, Mymble had thrown enough books in her lifetime to know. She ran her finger from the title to the spine, and pretended like she might give it just a little push. In her mind though, Mymble had already decided not to.

Instead, she took it under her arm and walked back inside. Briefly, Mymble wondered if she lived near any cute boys at all, and they had just been hibernating. Then she thought of the boring book and felt its weight. Metaphorically, it was like a ton of lead, but physically it weighed no more than a jar of jam. Mymble laughed about it quietly to herself, Too-ticky might have found such an assertion funny.

At the thought of her friend Mymble walked about her house with more purpose, though without the loud sound of her heels on the hardwood for she had begun to take her shoes off at the door. Mymble did not reach for her heels that time as she had become quite sick and tired of trying to run on the beach with them. Instead she slipped on her red boots again and laid the book down in her basket with a striped umbrella. 

The walk to the bathhouse, which Mymble had done a dozen times over perhaps, seemed longer as she walked it then. A certain sense of anticipation went along with it as well, for what, she did not know. All that was apparent to Mymble was that one could describe the sandy beach and the cold ocean as many times as one liked but she knew it well enough to be good and bored of it.

So it was a shame that she felt the time creep by so slowly as she walked, the whistling of frigid winds made her feel all the more alone. It danced through the tips of the naked trees and evergreens beyond them, pushing like the ocean did. Once again Mymble felt the weight of her little adventure, pulling her basket down as if it might be heavy enough to slip past all the sand and simply keep sinking. It was an odd thought that struck her, and she dismissed it as easily as it had come, although not without some sense of wrongness.

Yes, time crept by slowly until she had the bathhouse in her sight. Then she ran without considering much else, right up to the door which she had intended to throw open. Instead, Mymble slowed at the sight of something red just a pace before the door, and then looked up. It wasn't the deep dark red of pomegranate jam in the shade of a warm place, nor was it the homely looking red of Too-Ticky’s sweater. The door was spotless, and,

It was, if only a sliver, left open.

Mymble stared at it with a blankness she did not often feel. She might have claimed that her being a Mymble, she did not feel blankness at all, but it happened to all creatures from time to time. When they did not think, when they did not know how to act, when they did not know what was going on. She took one hesitant step forward, and then another, until she had a paw resting just gently on the door. She did not look through the window, only pressed the door open a bit more.

Inside, Mymble remembered herself enough to cry out.

Too-ticky, who had been slumped over the table, threw up her head and whipped around to face Mymble. The other woman’s face was pale, she was sweating, and Mymble only stood stock still for a moment before rushing to hover over her.

“What has happened?” Mymble’s hands found their home on Too-ticky’s back and she crouched so that she might be face to face with her.

“I’ve been hasty and foolish.” Too-ticky replied, grimacing in pain.

The answer did not make any sense to Mymble, who saw the arm which Too-ticky had been hunched over and felt instantaneously a hundred times worse. It was dark, staining the white parts of her sweater the same as its stripes. Mymble took the knife from Too-ticky’s belt and cut away the bloody sleeve, slamming the knife down on the table next to her once she had finished. 

Too-ticky was startled, and Mymble had some sense to feel sheepish, but not much. Her heart pounded in her ears and all she could hear was the pulse in her throat. In front of her was a wound, there was too much clotted red for her to assess it. Mymble snatched Too-ticky’s knife off of the table again and took it to her dress, the action was jerky and passion filled. It was an impressive display but it did not make for much accuracy, instead it left the skirt of her dress looking just a hair worse than Too-ticky herself.

Mymble laid the fabrics out and they swept away some yellowed and blank pages that laid there before, they had been flecked with little red dots of blood. Too-ticky made an effort to snatch one or two of the blank pages before they fell to the ground. Mymble rushed to get water that had been boiled before, searching through the miscellaneous things that Too-ticky kept. She found a pitcher and brought it to the table, setting it down quickly and drowning some of the cloths into it. She held Too-ticky’s paw on her injured arm with shocking delicateness for a creature so panicked. Too-ticky looked shocked as well and had been very quiet till then.

“Mymlan…” Too-ticky said with something strange in her tone.

“Hold on.” Mymble replied, she was not well equipped to be trying to decipher all the delicate little nuances of a conversation at that particular moment.

Both women sucked air in through their teeth as Mymble began to clean away the blood. It was not difficult, but Mymble wished she had something better to do it with. She had dressed the wounds of many little children for her siblings played quite roughly at times, but she had always had bandaids at least.

As in most cases, it did not look as bad when it was clean, though that was not to say that it did not look bad. Mymble took another strip of fabric and tied it tightly around the wound, glancing up sympathetically at the little noise of pain that Too-ticky had made. 

“You’ll need stitches, dear friend.” Mymble said apologetically.

“I can do them, don't worry.” Too-ticky smiled tiredly.

“Good god woman!” Mymble almost couldn't believe herself, and then remembered who her friend was and sighed with exasperation.

To Mymble, her friend seemed delirious, if only just so. She did not think that she had ever seen Too-ticky so physically and mentally out of sorts ever. It was sobering. Too-ticky who could fix anything, could be hurt just as easily as any other creature. As she realized, Mymble had also snapped out of a particularly intense fit of staring. Deep into half lidded eyes, the owner of which stared back.

Mymble slid down and sat beside her friend on the bench, warmed by the presence beside her. She stared at the stove, which needed to be stoked. Mymble hadn't the energy to stand and do so, she only wanted to sit and feel the warmth. Afterall, she hurt inside.

Being unbothered by most things, Mymble was unprepared to be completely and utterly bothered. It hurt her. Perhaps a bit selfishly she thought that it hurt as much inside of her as Too-ticky felt outside. Why had the other woman not told Mymble what happened? Was she tired? Could she not bear to say it? It was all very much bothering Mymble.

The windows began to frost and Mymble was reminded again of a place she had at one time called a home. A long time before Mymble had any siblings, being completely alone besides a mother. The memory was as pale and delicate as the snowflakes that had begun to fall outside, touching the window and melting at its warmth.

It had been so long ago. Perhaps in time she might forget it completely, and falsely think that she had never been alone in the world.

“Do you miss being young?” Mymble asked as a few snowflakes had begun to stick to the red and green windows.

“I don't remember it very well,” Too-ticky said, cradling her arm, “not well enough to say that I might miss it.”

“I don't so much either.” Mymble tilted her head.

Mymble had another realization that she had to stop herself from blurting. It was her instinct to simply say what was on her mind, though she felt she might keep such a realization to herself. Mymble had been a bit intimidated by Too-ticky, in a way that she had felt with no one before. In fact, she had never even been nervous with boys, the most she had been was coy. Asking questions that she already knew the answer to, believing very incorrectly that somehow the other woman was invincible. 

Not intimidated in a way that frightened her, rather, Mymble had admired her. She had done so in a way that she had perhaps looking beyond what was really there. Mymble thought as she sat, that she had not been the best friend to Too-ticky.

It was not as if she had been a terrible friend, no. Mymble did not think that she had ever been a terrible friend. She had just stuck herself squarely in that beginning mark of a friendship and refused to go much past it. It must have been stale, Mymble thought and wrinkled her nose. She swung her boots back and forth fluidly, though they were quite clunky and stopped against the wooden floor many times.

She had been a bit false, not only to her friend but also to herself. Too-ticky was not a distraction from a lonely winter, she was not someone for Mymble to talk at. She was much beyond that, Mymble had only known her for a short time and still she could see. It was possible, Mymble thought, that Too-ticky had not been transparent with her because she had not done so either.

“I really ought to be a better friend hm.” Mymble said gently, with a maturity that she didn't often express.

Too-ticky looked a bit distraught beside her, “Mymlan,” She put her uninjured paw in Mymbles and held it firmly, “you are my best friend.” 

Even if she smiled as she said it, Mymble felt there was something tight around the corners of Too-ticky’s mouth. All would come undone eventually, Mymble knew, and left the admission at that. She simply squeezed Too-ticky’s paw back and felt he calluses, the tough skin that the other woman might have been born with.

Everything came undone eventually. For some, it was a scary thought that brought nothing but unease. Hearing it might have scared even Too-ticky, or perhaps she would agree. Mymble felt it would be the latter, for she had great faith in Too-ticky’s wisdom. If one had the patience to stick something out to the very end, then they might find themselves all the wiser for it. 

Catastrophe was a scary word too, and yet so often misdiagnosed. For those who couldn't see the forest for the trees, a catastrophe was as simple as stubbing one’s toe. Mymble chuckled and leaned into her friend’s side, it was not the end of the world if Too-ticky had secrets. If she had faith and stayed close, all would come undone eventually. 

Too-ticky stared into the middle distance just as Mymble did, “I won't tell you how to feel.” She said and gave pause, “Nor will I tell you if you should change yourself or not. It is up to you to become who you love Mymlan.”

It was solid advice, and the two women were like minded in that aspect, but Mymble was provided with another small insight that made her smile. Too-ticky had misunderstood her completely. It was likely that the other woman had never even realized that Mymble had not been entirely herself, the realization was like a breath of fresh air. Too-ticky was not perfect in a literal sense, she made mistakes and had misunderstandings.

Mymble did too. They were not like the couple in Mymble’s book, who had been described as puzzle pieces that cosmically aligned. No, there were no pieces missing in Mymble that needed to be filled by a friend, she ventured a guess that it was the same with Too-ticky. They did not come together like that, but as Mymble sat she figured, they did rest together quite well.

All the more suddenly, Mymble mentally shook her head of it and spoke.

“Do you think that dreams have power?” Mymble asked.

“Aye.” Too-ticky said, “Though, what kind do you think?” 

“I'm not quite sure.” She replied, “I only have the vaguest sense of what I’m saying anyways.” and laughed.

“Did you have another dream?” Too-ticky asked.

“Not yet.” Mymble said, though it was not entirely true. "Would you like to get drunk with me?"

Too-ticky laughed bodily and nodded. She knew it was a bad idea but who could say no? Mymble laughed as well and the two began searching for something through piles of random forgotten items. It began to snow heavily outside, the first serious snow of the winter and the beginning of a change. Though the flakes were tinted red and green by the windows between the women and the cold, they remained white all the same. A white lie, so easily said that sometimes the one speaking it forgot it wasn't true. Mymble had dreamed.

Everyone dreamed. It was only a matter of picking one dream from another and recalling it as one woke. There were so many dreams that raced through one’s head every single sleep that they could not possibly remember them all. Where did all the forgotten dreams go? No where surely, where else would they go? Though, where was no where? Mymble found herself wondering very much the same thing.

Hindsight was twenty twenty. Though it would be an odd experience if Mymble knew to keep in mind a thought that whisped so lightly she barely registered it, for it would be utterly important. If she could only know what thoughts were important enough to repeat like an echo chamber, this would be such a thought:

What did it mean to disappear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wuh oh, how'd that happen? hmmm... yeah drama, anyways, hope you all liked this chapter. came out much shorter than I intended actually but thats not a bad thing since i get kinda carried away at times. ive been thinking about all the editing i gotta do on TMP and ahahah it kind of distracts me from this story. w/e tho, nothing can hold me back from writing wlw.


	6. Arabesque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always heres the music! [PLAYLIST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bYA_vvKZEA&list=PLQdw4_EElB3AbfQA8nNQCMRL8N8Yu0K9b&index=2&t=0s)

It had been a week from the day that Mymble had subconsciously taken to calling a ‘red’ day. That was, in a very self explanatory way, a day in which Too-ticky had come back injured. Since that day there had not been any repeats or injuries, but Mymble felt it would not be the last time. That was because Too-ticky had told her that she would be gone most mornings and that Mymble would have to visit later in the day. 

Mymble blew bubbles out of her nose and pushed the yellow rubber duck across the surface of her bathtub. She was nervous for her friend, but not entirely worried, for Too-ticky was a very capable creature. The duck was a useless little thing, Mymble procured it on a whim and nothing more. After all, what was a bathroom without a yellow rubber duck? That and a plush rug, or perhaps a few bars of soap, or both really. Mymble had those as well.

Supposedly still a bathroom- but the point stood, with the pointless things Mymble felt a little less alone in her cluster of tall houses. It was a very different attitude from her mother’s favorite and his little child, so different that it caused her to snort out a few more bubbles. They were at odds in that sense, but she loved them both still, and perhaps they felt the same way.

Mymble was a firm believer that one needn't understand another fully to love them, so much so that she had fallen in love with perfect strangers before. She knew she was a bit of an extremist in that regard, but who could help a heart such as hers? Mymble felt that it was more endearing than anything else, that was until a heart such as hers was broken. Then, albeit briefly each time, she had wondered what the deal with love was anyways. 

In time she would be back to her carefree self, and she found a bit of beauty in that as well. One could not be happy all the time nor could they dismiss their feelings without feeling them. The closest Mymble had ever seen to a creature who had been happy all of the time was her mother, and even The Mymble had cried before. The difference was that tears were not agonizing to her type, they came and went like people did. Once they were gone then they were gone, Mymble knew that.

Though, tears were a far away thing to Mymble as she brought her nose above the warm water to take a breath. The water rippled as she breathed out onto it, other than that it was still. No, Mymble needn't cry then, but she was still nervous. She hadn't had to waste time since she met Too-ticky, in those past days she had always chosen to waste it. Since that red day, Mymble took long baths and had silence in her head, always thinking of what she might say and forgetting it afterwards.

It wasn't like her to get so not like herself! She nearly laughed out at the thought, but let her head thunk against the curling rim of the tub behind her and simply smiled. Mymble felt randomly grateful for a bathroom to her lonesome. She remembered tilting her head back in an idle boredom before, except at that time she had been going through the mind numbing exercise of cleaning all of her siblings. Bathing every individual child would have been a nightmare, it was easier that she had used a hose. Mymble stood and stepped out onto her carpet, drying and dressing a moment later.

Down the stairs she left wet footprints and dribbles of water from her tangled hair. She hadn't left it up and for that she would pay the price of brushing it in it's worst state. It was a problem that she could postpone, so she did, and instead snatched a little wooden figure off of her table.

A gift from Too-ticky, wooden cat, sitting and pawing its ear. She had received it just two colorless days after that one day that was red, and had smacked her friend on the shoulder through an uncontrollable grin. Certainly Too-ticky hadn't made such a lovely thing with her arm still healing! And yet somehow Mymble knew that she had. Too-ticky had smiled back, and Mymble cataloged the difference between her smiles.

A grin, an upturning of the corners of her mouth, a closed mouth smile, a bright and uncontrollable thing, Mymble liked them all. She took the little figure in her paw and spun it around to see it better. Too-ticky carved idly, when she had nothing to do with her paws, and so she was a very talented woodworker. Mymble had once called her a jack of many trades, but it seemed she was a bit more. Mymble hummed and set the wooden cat down again, picking up something else hidden on a chair that rested, tucked in to the table.

Something would be given in return, Mymble had decided two colorless days after a day that was red, and borrowed a sketchbook from The Hemulen. She had no intention of giving it back, yes, but it still counted as borrowing in Mymble’s opinion. When would The Hemulen use such a thing anyways? And why had he had it? 

The thought temporarily paused Mymble and she wondered truly, why had The Hemulen had a frivolous thing like a sketchbook? It was dusty on all pages and not a single piece of paper had been ripped out, effectively it had never been used. Perhaps it was a gift from a creature that simply did not know what a Hemulen was, Mymble decided, for there was no way he had gotten it for himself. Yes, she decided, and thought of it no more for there could be nothing interesting about The Hemulen, she was sure of it.

Poor Hemulen, the world might have dampened for a moment, and then went on as it usually did for it certainly meant naught to him who would not stir from his sleep either way. 

Mymble had seen the ocean a good number of times and had once been confident that her familiarity with it might let her draw it easier, but it was not the case. She was no good at it, drawing that was. Simply no good at all. Still, Mymble donned her red rubber boots and walked out of her house, closing the door without looking back, Too-ticky had fixed it after all. She had a sense of purpose with her that accompanied the sketchbook, Mymble could understand how artist types got a bit self inflated. How official was she, who walked with her shoulders back and a sketchbook in her paws!

Not very, Mymble knit her eyebrows together, she couldn't draw incredibly well. 

Still, the cold air was ridiculously colder on her neck and back, her hair had made wet spots there. To go out in the winter with wet hair, well, it truly was a careless Mymble type thing to do. 

Mymble flipped another page over and began to draw anew, though from the start of it she figured she would not keep the new one either. Mymble had begun to walk backwards as her charcoal slid across the page. It was no good to stand so closely, she figured that a wider scene might be easier to render.

In her backwards gait, Mymble had bumped into someone a great deal shorter than her. She stumbled a bit backwards, cartwheeling her arms out before righting herself just barely. What a terrible thing it could have been, she would have gotten sand in her wet hair.

The creature behind her stumbled backwards as well, not catching themselves as they fell into the sand. Mymble turned with some small confusion, would they not have seen her walking and called out, or well, at least moved? She asked as much.

“Could it be that you didn't see me?” Mymble asked the other, looking down at him as he harrumphed.

The other creature was an old old thing, he did not reply, only brushed the cold grains away and stood with jerky and livid motion. He still had sand everywhere, Mymble tilted her head before bending at the hip to speak louder and closer to the old creature’s ear.

“Could it be!” she spoke, “That you! Did not-!”

“Quiet!” Said the old thing, his voice was scratchy and held a great deal of anger, “I can hear you just fine!”

Why was it then, that he had not replied the first time? Mymble wondered. And what had put him in such a peevish state? How little it mattered though, Mymble simply backed up again without much looking behind her so that she might stand beside him. She held her sketchbook up and resumed drawing.

The old creature looked like he wanted to say something, but only watched the ocean, occasionally glimpsing at Mymble from the corner of his eye. She wondered why he still stood there as she tried and failed once more, flipping another page over to start again. 

Waiting for him to say something that he clearly wanted to say was bothersome in it's own right, and Mymble took some pity by speaking first.

“The weather, huh?” She gave very little effort into trying to say something of meaning, and sighed when the old creature simply looked forward.

“The Weather! Huh-!”

“I am not deaf you know!” he yelled. 

“Yes,” Mymble said, “hullo and all that. You are?” 

“Need you know?” He said tersely, obviously waiting for her to ask more.

Mymble felt the soft pigment of the charcoal fixing itself into the grooves of her fingerprints. It did not show, her paws were quite dark already, but she could still feel the light dust. It was not her favorite tool, she simply hadn't any others. The light weight of her stick felt all too delicate in her paws, she was not afraid to snap it, but she really did not wish to do so either. The result was that all of her drawing felt light and impermanent, as if they would fly off the page in a simple breeze.

“Your neighbor. Though you wouldn't know such a thing, much to busy throwing parties.” He said in a tone that meant quite obviously that he would be complaining a fair bit.

Mymble looked with confusion to the freezing ocean, she had not once thrown any such thing. She hadn't even enough friends to do so, but, ah, perhaps the older creature was very used to hearing things. She said nothing on the matter and simply continued to sketch, flipping the page over and starting again.

“Hmph. I shall forget you anyways.” Said he, and walked off with the determination of a frightfully old thing.

“Yes alright.” Mymble said to the ocean, not very much looking as the other walked away.

Why he had been out in the first place did not concern Mymble, she did not truly care. If the old creature was to forget her than she would not mind, one could not control the whims of another. Forgetting was not something that Mymble thought about very much, it was on a long list of things that did not bother her. But the old man, he quite liked to forget.

It was a natural thing to he, who at times forgot his own name, that he might forget the name of another. A realization that came with age, remembering everything was not really what life had been all about. 

Still, he walked away, and she stayed there, so it was Mymble who saw a shifting near the ice. A darker spot that traveled fluidly away as if it felt itself being seen. Mymble knew what it was, she had seen the creature that stole her lace many times since it had done the aforementioned action. She had lost more lace to it since then as well.

Mymble flipped another page and thought better of it before closing her sketchbook completely. What a boring thing to draw, Mymble felt, and she could not even get it right once. At least she had practiced it a bit, Mymble reasoned with herself as she turned to go back to her home. A certain sense of melancholy had begun to fall over her like gosmer sheets, they became heavier the longer she refused to brush them off.

Walking through the cold sand became less effortless, Mymble felt the sand holding her bight red boots. She trudged on with a heavy feeling, unhappy with the simple fact that she was unhappy in the first place. Mymble wished to be unbothered as she had been for most of her life, yet something about the world had become dull and uninteresting. Mymble considered it with her head pointed squarely towards her red boots, for she felt as though she had been barely walking at all.

Turning the corner from the path onto the hard ground, Mymble looked up from the red of her boots to the red of her friend. Too-ticky, who looked at her momentarily frozen in surprise with a paw raised to knock on Mymble’s door. 

“How wonderful!” Mymble burst out suddenly, the heavy feeling from before had rushed away from her with a simple inhale.

Too-ticky smiled in a way she could barely control, brightening at Mymble’s exclamation, “Hullo Mymlan.” She said.

“Hullo Too-ticky!” Mymble rushed up to her, taking her paws for a quick squeeze before opening the door for them both to enter through. “Let’s skip the ‘how are you’s and such, come sit!” 

Too-ticky did just that, sitting with a small huff, setting the items she had been carrying on the table in front of her. Mymble paced to the kitchen and began to slice some bread, her red boots had made an awful lot of noise on the way. Little grains of forgotten sand spun off and fell to the floor, most likely to remain for the winter as Mymble was not one to sweep. She placed the sketchbook out of Too-ticky’s sight, on the counter in the kitchen.

She had begun to heat some water over the stove, and then Mymble brought the plate of bread and a jar of jam to where Too-ticky sat. It was a very quick thing, Too-ticky looked very impressed by Mymble’s speed. At least, Mymble hoped she had been impressed, and laughed at the situation regardless. 

“Ah,” Mymble said, taking the things that Too-ticky had set down in her paws, “you've an awful lot of blank paper.” She observed the yellowed pages.

“Not blank, just invisible.” Too-ticky said softly.

Mymble understood quite immediately what that meant, “Like the shrews?” She asked.

“Aye.” Too-ticky said, and nothing more.

Mymble looked down at them again with a bit more seriousness, considering them with a neutral expression. She hadn't the slightest clue why they might be invisible, the shrews we're shy, the paper was simply paper. Mymble placed them back down and looked up to her friend, holding out a paw.

Too-ticky gave her arm that had been injured and Mymble slid the sleeve of her sweater up gently. The area around the wound was not red nor was it hot to the touch, good signs Mymble knew. Most was covered in bandage and she wasn't in the mood to risk giving the other woman an infection herself, so she left it be. 

“I'm still quite impressed that you did the stitches yourself.” Mymble gave in a flippant tone.

“I used fishing line.” Too-ticky admitted a bit lowly.

“Good god.” Mymble shook her head, “I'm not so happy to hear it, but I must admit I am still impressed.”

Too-ticky laughed and spread a bit of jam on a small slice of bread. She held it up to Mymble who grinned almost too hard to take it. They both shared a few chuckles as Mymble chewed the sweet thing. Mymble found that she did not care about the taste very much, at least not as much as she had wanted Too-ticky to hold up another slice. 

The teapot had begun to whistle lowly behind them and Mymble stood, retrieving the pot to pour a bit of tea. She did not even really care for tea, it simply seemed to be the thing to offer a good friend. So Mymble poured two cups and sat down again with her friend.

“You wouldn't like to go for a walk after we eat, would you?” Mymble asked after a sip from her own cup.

“In fact I would.” Too-ticky said and brushed a bit of golden hair out of her eyes.

Mymble wished that it had been her paw to do so. She ate quickly.

Too-ticky was a creature who took her time, Mymble knew, and it applied to eating as well it seemed. She sipped slowly at her tea and Mymble tore her eyes away from the other woman’s lips as she drank. 

What was with her that day? Mymble was not self conscious of her staring, she had never been in any other situation either. It was only that Mymble did not quite understand why she was staring, or wishing for that matter. To be close to Too-ticky, Mymble had never felt she was much of a clingy friend before.

Many things were different with the other woman, Mymble shrugged it off, that was very much the charm. Instead she swung her boots slightly, tapping the tips of Too-ticky’s bare feet just barely with every swing. They sat across from each other, and Mymble’s whole house felt a bit more full. Finally, Too-ticky stood, and Mymble joined her a breath afterwards. Hooking their arms together, Mymble grabbed her striped umbrella under the crook of her free arm.

They walked out into the cold again, and though Mymble had just been outside, it felt much colder the second time out. She leaned a little closer into Too-ticky’s side, the other creature was oh so warm.

Instead of the bathhouse, which both had visited many times, they walked straight into the forest, past all the other tall houses. The clusters of sleeping creatures who laid unaware of the cold disappeared behind them, Mymble didn't really spare them a second thought. She had been focused instead on the mystery in front of her.

The deeper into the forest they walked, the more twisted the roots and trunks became, perhaps it was a alarming thing to some, but Mymble thought it homely. The twisting of the forest was dear to her, that which coiled tightly to itself and others was a very sweet and cluttered thing. What could Mymble judge even if she had wanted too? She mirrored the twisting roots and held close to her friend.

“I don't suppose you have some wisdom to share?” Mymble said absentmindedly, really only trying to pick Too-ticky’s mind.

“Perhaps,” Too-ticky tapped her chin and considered.

“Take your time.” Mymble teased.

“That's a good one,” Too-ticky teased back, “especially when you eat, Mymlan, take your time.”

Mymble laughed and shoved her friend lightly, “What a terrible piece of wisdom. I’d like another.” She said in mock offense.  
It was an odd shift then, one that Mymble just barely noticed. For just a second, her friend’s eyes had become weary and her smile propped up. It was only just a small change, but for that short time Too-ticky looked weary. 

And then she was quite back to her normal warm smile. What a terrible piece of wisdom, Mymble thought, troubled.

“Many wise things you must figure for yourself.” Too-ticky said, looking forward. And suddenly it was not as intimate as it had been before.

In the distance the sound of water trickling drew Mymble’s gaze. Past the gnarled and friendly winter trees was a small little stream that fell down a great distance. Or perhaps it would have fallen in the summer, as it was in the winter it released only the smallest dribble. A frozen waterfall, Mymble released Too-ticky and walked forward to observe it.

It must have been a powerful thing, as the ocean was. Mymble knew that it would be completely frozen soon, at the end of the day even, and with it froze it's secrets. Until the spring, the water would stay as it was. Unless she addressed it she would be frozen too.

“What exactly,” Mymble began hesitantly, “what is it that you do in the mornings?” She asked.

The reply was in a light tone, it seemed that Too-ticky was not off put by her worry, “A ways away from here lives an invisible child.” She said easily.

Mymble’s eyes widened at the answer, it had been much easier than she would have expected to get it. All the same, Too-ticky continued as if she had not hidden it from Mymble for a week.

“I'm trying to help them, so in the mornings I go to where they live.” She had some distaste in her voice, seemingly for the word ‘live’.

“An invisible child?” Mymble asked.

“Aye.” Too-ticky confirmed.

There was a beat that went by, the trickle of water slowed at an imperceptible pace behind Mymble as she turned. In that time perhaps a million things happened all around the world, but there near the twisted trees and the cold packed ground there was nothing. Until Mymble spoke.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

Too-ticky looked surprised. Mymble almost expected that weariness to return to her gaze, but no such thing happened. Instead She smiled walked up to Mymble, hooking their arms together again.

“Aye.” She repeated, and Mymble beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i really didnt mean to not update for so long, ive been in a creative rut! arg!
> 
> anywayssss were getting into some plotttt stuff now, hope i havnt gotten too boring. i might have some art for these soon, ive just been really burnt out.


	7. Couru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are mentions of abuse and abusive behavior in this chapter! please don't read if that triggers you! ill provide a plot summery at the end notes for those of you who cant read but would still like to know what happens.

When the world was a force of cold that surrounded one thoroughly, a point of warmth was easy to focus on. It made Too-ticky’s paw all the more apparent, grasping Mymble’s own. Through the brush of snow-covered bushes and matching ground, Mymble crept silently behind her friend, their paws clasped together. The wind was dead on her skin, she wished for it to blow, even if only a little. Anything to mask the crunch of snow beneath their feet.

When the world was dark, completely and utterly, a piece of light was easy to focus on as well. Both women could see a bright and distant thing. Such a scene might have been welcome to Mymble had she not known what she was going towards. 

Still, Mymble let her friend lead her and they scurried quickly and near silently, had it not been for the sound of their steps. Mymble traveled nearly blindly, focused on the warmth of her friend’s paw. Her breath came out quietly as well, she tried not to huff at the pace that they kept. 

The light in the distance became more clear suddenly, and Mymble realized that they had nearly come out of the forest. The moon had been unshrouded in snippings, Mymble looked up at it for a brief and fatal moment before losing her footing. As she lost her balance she threw her free paw over her mouth, anything to prevent the desperate yelp from escaping her.

She did not fall, and instead was tugged upwards by the paw that linked her to Too-ticky. The other woman pausing, hunched over and turned towards Mymble. The faint light of the moon was enough for Mymble to make out just the barest hints of her face, though certainly not enough to see her expression.

“I picked the right girl to be my best friend.” Mymble whispered, trying to relieve the tension of the dark morning.

Too-ticky shifted a long item under her other arm, Mymble knew it to be a walking stick, “I'm glad you think so.” Too-ticky whispered back, dislodging a bit of anxiety within her.

The phrase had felt odd on Mymble’s teeth, not that it wasn't true, and not that it hadn't made her feel a bit better to say. It was simply something about the words that felt as though she might say a bit more. Mymble dismissed the feeling, she didn't have very much time to ponder of useless things. She barely had time in her day to day life, there was no way she might spare a useless thought on a morning like the one she knew she would have.

A red morning. The winter was cool and black for certain, and it had begun to be lighter for less and less time. Soon it would be pure darkness for days, and Mymble had never once spent that time outside. Despite it all, the lack of color and light and warmth, she knew it would be a red morning. Mymble placed her paw in Too-ticky’s own.

Light filtered in easier as they crept closer and came up out of the forest. The moon was dim behind dark clouds, but it was still enough that Mymble could see. In front of them was a row of houses, all the windows were black. They walked much slower then, disappearing in the shadows behind old wood, moving at a snail's pace towards the light at the end of the houses.

There came no cover after the last house, so the two women stood there in the shadow, watching smoke billow up out of a chimney. Mymble observed it, the last house that remained awake. It's being such a bright thing hurt her eyes, and the smell of burning wood was heavy in her lungs. The house looked like every other one before it, the only difference being it's awakened state in the dead of winter. 

It was unsettling.

In the dark of morning, how could anyone bare such bright light? There was a sense of wrongness that accompanied a realization. A warm and bright house was not a home, Mymble learned, it was not that which made a home. The thing that stood before her, just beyond the wide form of Too-ticky, it was not a home.

Coming back to herself, Mymble felt the paw holding her own fall slack and squeezed it. Too-ticky looked back at Mymble with just a hint of uncertainty, then firmed back into determination. She squeezed Mymble’s paw back and nodded, looking forward again with faith.

“I'm right behind you.” Mymble breathed out nearly silently.

“Thank you.” Too-ticky replied, and perhaps it meant a million things.

The two moved forward, even slower than before, to the side window. They crouched beneath it and Too-ticky put a finger up over her lips in the universal sign, then pointed to herself before tapping the sill of the window completely quietly. Mymble understood and let her muscles coil with nervous energy as she forced them still. Too-ticky checked the window.

After an eternal moment Mymble felt a tap on her shoulder and she raised up slowly, peaking into the window. Inside was normal, at least at first glance, and then it all became more sinister to her.

Everything in the living room was clean, completely put in its place. There wasn't a single toy out, nor a mess of any kind. The only thing Mymble could see out of place was dust. It was a far cry from the home she had lived in with her mother, which had been a whirlwind of children and messes at all hours of the day. This place looked like her current house had when she had first moved in, had she not already known that a child lived in such a place she would not have guessed it.

Mymble reached up to lift the window open, but was stopped by a firm squeeze of her paw. She looked to Too-ticky who shook her head. She understood and lowered back into a crouch as they began to sneak around to the back door. 

In the back was peacefully dark, only disturbed by the light that came pouring from under the door. Mymble crawled forward consciously, for she had been put very much on edge. In front of her, Too-ticky came to a stop, releasing Mymble’s paw to take the walking stick she had held under her other arm. 

Mymble didn't quite understand what was being done, but watched her friend poke around the undisturbed blanket of snow. Too-ticky would not move forward, she only made little holes around the outskirts of the back yard. 

Then there was an awful noise, quicker than Mymble could even register for it happened in between two heartbeats. Involuntarily, she jumped back a bit, looking wildly in every direction to find the source of the terrible awful noise. She found it where she had not wanted it to be, in front of her and closed around the walking stick was a vicious metal thing. All teeth and hatred, taking apart the wooden stick with all the malice intended for a living breathing thing.

A bear trap.

With her steady paws, Too-ticky twisted the walking stick so that it came free of it's captured pieces. The trap snapped fully shut and the splintered end of the stick stayed with it. Mymble placed one paw over her mouth hesitantly, and then the other came up as well. She felt herself shaking but her mind was steady, belatedly she found she had been biting down on her palm in rage.

She wouldn't fool herself in asking what it meant, Mymble knew damn well what it meant. Her paws came down from her mouth and Mymble grit her teeth to suppress the anger that shook her breath. What good would anger do her then? She knew this to be true and placed a paw between Too-ticky’s shoulder blades. The other woman looked back and in the light of the crack between the ground and the door, Too-ticky looked angry.

It was the first time Mymble had ever seen it, and something in the way she grit her teeth made Mymble’s heart fall. Too-ticky breathed in through her nose and let a shaky breath out through her mouth, then looked up at Mymble. Mymble nodded at her, for it was all she could really do.

Too-ticky turned again and walked forward past the trap, poking the snow again. It wasn't long before she lost more of her walking stick to another trap. Mymble did not know how many traps there were, but she knew that they had only set off five before making it to the steps of the back door. Too-ticky knelt there and Mymble followed suit. 

They cut the light coming from the door in half and Mymble dug around her dress pocket for something, pulling out a white paper covered in writing. She placed it in Too-ticky’s paws. In the light of the moon, it was a cool blue, but as the other woman placed it on the ground the light of the house made it a sickly yellow. Too-ticky slid it from on side of the door to the other, only a little bit of the letter peaking out on the other side. She did so for an agonizing amount of time, each second that passed made Mymble feel a bit more ill.

Finally, something stopped Too-ticky’s sliding the letter, who firmed her grasp of it before two gentle tugs made her let out a sigh. Too-ticky let go of the letter and it disappeared underneath the door. 

Too-ticky held her open paw out to her again and Mymble dug through her dress pocket for the cold heavy item, covered in a white cloth. She gave it to Too-ticky who bent down beyond the steps and buried the item under the snow beside the door. 

She stood then, holding her paw out to Mymble again, who took it and let her friend pull her up. They hurried past the traps and the snow, less careful on the way out than they had been on the way in. once the had cleared the traps then they really started running, a dash to the forest with nothing other than the warmth between their joined paws. 

As Too-ticky disappeared into the darkness of the forest, Mymble felt herself disappear too. The moon must have glanced down at them, but no pale light would reach them in the cover of naked branches and umbrellas of snow. 

They ran for a long time, just as they had done to get there. It seemed that the journey to the sickly bright house was longer than they had stayed, and yet that time they had spent hiding from the light felt like hours to Mymble. She had been so preoccupied with staying deathly quiet that she had forgotten she might speak to her friend. 

They were a fair distance away and Mymble had begun to truly understand the urgency of such a situation. The further they became the more it dawned on her, though not with horror, Mymble was no longer scared. She was determined, more than she had ever been in her entire life before.

“Who had set up those traps?” Mymble asked, her tone rushed and breathy.

“The invisible child’s father,” Too-ticky replied, spitting out the words, “they have told me in letters that the man won't let them leave.”

Mymble could have sworn as a sailor did, she could have said a million different things, but all she felt on her teeth was an eerie quiet. A true type of anger, though it was not like Mymble had never been angry before.

She had, and the validity of each reason did not make her anger any less true. She had been angry of course, all creatures became angry at times. Such a feeling as she had in the darkness, gripping her friends paw, did not make every other anger a falsity. No, Mymble felt that those other feelings made the one she carried with her, beyond the reach of any moonlight, much more real. It categorized the feeling, and she had never understood her feelings in such a way. As she and Too-ticky slowed to a stop she realized.

Mymble had never been so angry before.

“Why were the lights on?” Mymble asked, her voice calm and small.

“The child wrote he won't let them sleep.” Too-ticky replied.

The taste of something acrid made its home in Mymble’s mouth, but she did not become any more or less angry. Instead she put her arm around Too-ticky’s waist and walked with her like that.

“I'll drown that man.” Mymble said and shook her head.

Too-ticky did not say anything, but in the darkness perhaps she smiled a bit, and returned her own arm around Mymble’s middle. 

“Thank you.” Too-ticky spoke firmly.

“Quite welcome, though I didn't do much.” Mymble gave.

“You're being there was important,” Too-ticky said, “I didn't want to be alone.” 

Mymble’s brain paused and she felt as an uncontrollable smile broke out on her face. She put her other paw up to cover it, although no creature in the entire wood could see it anyways. It was a nice thing, alleviating the pressure in Mymble’s stomach. Her heart felt a bit lighter, the anger faded and the determination remained.

“It was my pleasure.” Mymble said beyond a smile.

A ways away, the sound of the ocean was dull and fleeting. One might have heard the ocean winds easier, for Mymble knew that it was almost completely frozen over by then. Soon they would emerge into the moonlight again and all smiles and all rage would be plain on their faces. In the cover of darkness Mymble felt she had one thing left to say.

“I have had a dream recently.” 

“Go on.”

“I stood in front of a wall, it was falling down on me.”

One woman nodded her head in the dark, another woman stumbled just slightly over a protruding root, she was held up enough by her friend that it didn't quite matter. The two said nothing more and in front of them the black night became blue light. In the distance the world became visible again. Two women walked still in the dark.

“I was scared. Though, I knew I would be alright.” Said one.

The other nodded though neither could see it.

“Because you were there with me.”

Mymble and Too-ticky walked out of the darkness and into the pale blue night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summary: Too-ticky and mymble visit the house of the invisible child, the back yard is covered in bear traps. Too-ticky gives a letter to the child and hides something in the snow beside the door. Mymble and her run back towards the beach and Mymble tells her about a dream she had recently. in the dream mymble stood before a wall that was crumbling down on her.
> 
> okey dokie, this chapter felt a little short but it was fun to write, hope yall enjoyed. ill try to get the next chapter up in less than a week.


	8. Dessus Dessous

On a day well into winter, Mymble walked a path that she walked nearly every morning. Across the beach, soon she would be in the forest for a brief while, and then across the beach again to the bathhouse where Too-ticky lived. It was a long walk, though not so much that it was tiring. It was only a bit boring.

Not for the first time, Mymble wished to have borrowed The Hemulen’s boat. Though with a glance towards the frozen ocean she sighed. She couldn't particularly have used it then, and still, the little creature would probably be hibernating there. Mymble kicked her red boots, throwing a bit of cold sand up until it scattered back to the ground.

The wind was steady, it did not blow as hard as when the ocean had not been frozen over. Perhaps the waves brought the wind in on it's shoulders, Mymble thought, and wondered why the waves hadn't been frozen in their crest. As she neared the stretch of her walk that would be spent in the cold forest, Mymble paused and looked out onto the stretches of flat gleaming ice. 

Did the ice go all the way out? Certainly not, there was no way the whole ocean could have frozen. Yet, Mymble imagined that she might walk across the entire world on the flattened backs of sleeping waves. The sketchbook in her paws felt a bit heavier as Mymble imagined it, and she was nearly tempted to draw such a thing. Still, she did not, for Mymble did not wish to walk across the entire world, she wanted mostly to be by her friend’s side.

So in her paws remained the paper and charcoal, and Mymble kicked up more cold sand until she entered the forest again. Perhaps she would skate across the ocean, for in a winter long ago Mymble had wanted to be an ice ballerina. What a very lovely time that had been, though it was long since she had worn any ice skates. 

The branches of bushes brushed Mymble as she had been very much caught up in her remembering, she hadn't been very careful to avoid them. One particularly stubborn branch hooked her dress, all black, and she yanked it free without much of a care. It was a winter dress, it was not dainty and would not rip so easily. Mymble did not worry for it, she simply remembered a winter long ago.

Really it was quite a dreadful winter as well. Another unhappy love, and there had been a terrible bobsled accident if she had remembered correctly. Mymble’s smile became a little stiffer as she appreciated the foolishness of it all. 

Oh well, Mymble thought, and it was as easy as that. From love came many things, but not all of those little things always remained. There were feelings of course, though they had become more vague over time. Bitter and sweet feelings, all of them left Mymble a bit more balanced, and she did not remember exactly what had prompted them. Only that they had come from an unhappy love of a man who’s name she did not remember either! 

Mymble hopped over protruding roots and stuck out a paw to balance herself. The sun was just barely in the sky, and she ought to have been a little more careful, but such a word meant next to nothing. She had been told many times to be careful, careful with her heart, careful with her dresses, careful with her choices. 

A younger and brighter Mymble might have screwed up her face with a terrible angry blush, but at her own age Mymble smiled simply. A stranger would pass along and she would forget their name and their face, it was only the next logical step to forget their words. After all, the world moved ever so fast so that it might keep up with the sun, there really was no time to waste. Mymble had lots of love to give, enough dresses to rip, and quite a few choices to make, she would not be careful.

Finally, the beach was again visible from beyond the forest. Such a terribly long walk, and yet so short in the grand scheme of things.

Mymble walked straight to the bathhouse and hung off the door as she peaked in. 

“Hullo?” Mymble called, mostly for the shrews, for if Too-ticky had been there than she certainly would have seen the other woman.

Faint and echoing, Mymble heard a distant call to answer her.

“Down here Mymlan!” came the voice of her friend.

Oh, well, Mymble felt a little silly for not considering it, but it seemed that Too-ticky was down a hole cut in the thick ocean ice. Mymble hopped down onto the ice, not fearing its ability to bear her weight. It wasn't as if she knew it would have, she just figured Too-ticky would save her if it hadn't.

The hole really was the only feature of the ice for miles in all directions besides the shore, Mymble felt silly for not having considered it before. Instead of kicking herself for it, a task that surely would have hurt for her red boots were heavy and she could kick quite hard, she sat down on the edge of the hole. The ice seeped through her clothes easily but she stayed sitting all the same, and began to kick her feet back and forth.

Too-ticky looked upwards and tipped her cap in greeting before looking down at the water below. The ocean had lowered below the ice a fair deal, there was more than enough room to stand from the rock that Too-ticky sat on. Beside Mymble was a ladder, likely how Too-ticky had planned to come back up.

“You may lose a boot like that.” Too-ticky said in a gentle tone.

She looked absolutely serene whilst fishing, Mymble observed, and laughed for it was a funny observation. Mymble wondered if her youngest brother would have liked Too-ticky, she remembered that he had also enjoyed fishing a ridiculous amount. Though he had liked it as such a little thing, Mymble had no way of knowing if that liking stuck to him.

Mymble had cycled through her fair share of likes and dislikes after all, and cycled almost seemed to be an understatement. Eventually, she had even become tired of being an island princess. Glamorous and handsome never seemed to stick with her, eventually it all bored Mymble and she moved on. The interesting piece of it was that Mymble had known, all those times, that she would eventually become bored. She felt no such premonition when she thought of her tall house, the winter, Too-ticky.

“I wonder what's so funny.” Said Too-ticky coyly. 

“You're interested?” Mymble said back, something swishing on her tone, playful and hidden.

“Of course,” Came the reply, “I am very interested in all things.” 

Mymble could not say she was the same, she was perhaps a bit picky with her interests. Though historically, she had picked up quite a few interests for the sake of a man, though those never lasted very long. She leaned forward a bit so that she might look, but just bent at the hip she didn't see much other than the still waters below her.

So Mymble shifted onto her stomach and hung over the ice, staring at the amazingly long stretch of suspended ice. The white light from the obscured sun made little bright blue spots where the ice was thinner. Mymble wished briefly that Too-ticky might sit under one of those thinner spots so that she might see how the other woman looked in such soft light. 

Instead Mymble returned to sitting and placed a sketchbook that did not really belong to her in her lap, opening to a new page and beginning to sketch. She did not have colors anyways, only light charcoal, and a budding confidence that allowed her to press it harder onto the page. 

“I just like how much you enjoy fishing.” Mymble said, placing a circle on the page where her friend was meant to sit.

“Do you?” Too-ticky asked genuinely.

“Of course, it's hard to explain but I like the way you like most things.” Mymble said without looked anywhere other than squarely at her page.

Too-ticky was quiet, and the silence was not lost on Mymble, but it was not a meaningful pause to her. It was only more comfortable space between them. There was no need to let the quiet be chased off, it sat like a friend for the two had embraced it many times before as one. Mymble drew a larger circle around the one and began to fill in the dark little ripples of the water inside.

“I see.” Too-ticky said finally, tilting her head and reeling in her line. A free paw placed over her heart.

Something had tugged it.

Mymble began to hum as she drew, forcing herself not to become attached to it. It was a complicated scene that she might render, she hadn't much practice with drawing from such a perspective. When the drawing became awkward in form Mymble simply continued to hum and flipped the page, beginning anew.

To her surprise and utter delight, Too-ticky had begun to sing along. Making lyrics up as she went, Mymble knew it to be the case for at times Too-ticky would miss count the syllables of a word and the song would have a very quick moment of stuttering. No matter the odd song, and no matter how it was about fishing and red boots in the sky above, Mymble loved it very truly.

She loved it in a new and wonderful way, her heart felt tight and her smile was gleeful. Mymble almost couldn't believe that she could be so happy and still focus on her sketching. It seemed that was simply a part of the feeling, an idle thing, and yet it was so apparent.

Eventually, Mymble finished her drawing. The second attempt was actually quite good in her opinion. Perhaps it was the way that she captured Too-ticky tilting her head upwards in song. Still, Mymble’s humming became quiet like a ghost, and she looked up from the page onto the forest behind her.

“Ticky…” She said distractedly.

“Yes Mymlan?” Answered the other.

“When will we rescue that invisible child?”

There was a beat before she answered.

“The very day the snow melts.” Said Too-ticky.

It was surprising to Mymble, who turned her head back downwards to her friend, who had turned away from her fishing to face Mymble fully. She looked determined, a bit of sweat from the exercise of fishing slicked her forehead and she wiped it with a sleeve. Too-ticky’s soft looking hair was pressed flat around the sides of her face, cradling her like a basket, and nearly white in some places as the light behind Mymble fell on her. She looked messy, and Mymble couldn't quite look away.

“Not now?” Mymble asked gently.

“There are quite a few reasons why,” Too-ticky began, “the traps for one, I couldn't risk you nor them like that.”

“Nor yourself.” Mymble said a bit crossly.

“Yes sorry,” Too-ticky looked a bit bashful before returning to her seriousness, “I must confess that my friends that might take care of the invisible child are hibernating, had I known of the child's situation before winter I would have warned my friends to stay up.”

“You wouldn't take care of them yourself?” Mymble asked genuinely.

“I am not a parent really.” Too-ticky shrugged.

“Me neither.” Said Mymble and quirked half a smile.

Too-ticky still faced Mymble as she reeled in her line, looking down for moments at a time until she reeled in another fish. She cast the line out without so much of the care that she had invoked previously. Mymble felt a bit special to have the attention.

It was odd. Mymble usually knew somewhere in the back of her mind when she would take up a hobby that would not interest her soon enough. She did not feel that way with drawing. She flipped the page again and considered her book before looking back to Too-ticky. Mymble closed the thing, giving the other woman her own attention.

“I suppose I understand. Neither of us can take care of them and it is much too dangerous to try to save them now.” Mymble said, and for once, in a way she felt smart.

Being an equal, being a helper. She felt like Too-ticky was listening to her and truly caring about what she might say. It was different from vapidly speaking of herself to near strangers and waiting for them to forget her name just a day or two later. She felt the need to listen just as intently back, for if Too-ticky cared for what she thought than it really was her duty to be informed.

“At least, I think,” Mymble began, “that we should continue to leave the child letters, just to let them know they aren't alone.”

“I couldn't agree more.” Too-ticky said with a warm smile that tilted her eyes upwards.

The smile lasted just a bit longer before Too-ticky sobered into a look of surprise. She seemed to remember something as she dug through her pockets, propping the fishing pole between her legs. She procured something pink from her pockets and looked it over a moment before smiling again.

“I found this, it reminded me a bit of you.” Too-ticky said and climbed the ladder halfway to give the thing to Mymble.

The other woman held it in her paws, realizing it was a plastic pink comb with an ornate rose at the tip of it. It really was one of the prettiest things Mymble had ever seen, and she clutched it to her chest just so. 

“Thank you.” Mymble said simply, though her voice came out a bit thick.

“Aye.” Too-ticky said back, smiling beyond her control.

Too-ticky had begun to bring a bunch of fish as well as the pole out with her and climbed up the ladder. She sat down with a huff beside Mymble and sat close together with their feet swinging below them. Too-ticky rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and Mymble felt the other woman was overheating slightly, a bandage on one arm was stark beside the rest of the tanned skin.

How exactly had the other woman had a tan in the winter? Mymble shook her head and simple leaned back on her paws, feeling the chilling bite of the ice on them. It was almost a nice feeling, she didn't think that she might have felt the same way anywhere else other than beside her friend.

The two faced the rising sun, which would not be in the sky for very long, and looked out onto the frozen ocean. Mymble fell quiet as Too-ticky spoke.

“I have had a dream recently.”

“And what was that?” Mymble replied.

“There was nothing in the entire world. I stood on the beach as the waves came in, they brushed my toes and turned them blue.”

I see, Mymble thought, and rested her head on Too-ticky’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies, i said less than a week and then i became obsessed with metal gear again. fuck.
> 
> anyways, mymble sure likes to steal shit from the hemulan! id do it too, cant blame her. also, everytime i write the phrase 'her friend' im like "hhhhahahhaHA. were a little past that arent we?" unfortunately not yet. its coming tho, thank you for staying w/ me! see yall in an unspecified amount of time.
> 
> oh before i forget, haha im finally talking about ballet. thats kind of important? maybe?


	9. Pas De Deux

Another winter day, pale of any color, had begun as Mymble stood in front of her house. She stood with a straight back and the sketchbook in her paws, though she found maintaining the posture to be more distracting after a while. Detail was a tricky thing, the mind could conjure it blurred and yet so smoothly. To put it down on paper was tricky yet again, her eyes took in the house and her mind tried to remember it well enough in order for her to record it with her paws.

In essence, she was only practicing the memory of her body. She flipped the page over and huffed blankly, the air made her head feel light and her nose, quite cold. Mymble began again, the shape, vaguely, and then filled it in with beams and windows and doors. They were wildly out of place, what she had drawn did not really resemble her house at all, but it was better than the last.

It was odd how better did not mean much of anything. There was simply an unknown quality which she had hoped to reach. There were a few things in her life like that, that which she had seen before and knew to be possible and yet had never conjured up herself. A home, for starters. 

Not a drawn one, though she had never conjured up one of those either, but a real home. She had lived in one once or twice, she knew the feeling, and yet detail was a tricky thing. When she thought of a home she remembered her mother, or her friends on the Oshun Oxtra. She might try to emulate either, though she had a gut feeling that neither would work.

Children are very permanent things, a Mymble shouldn't want to bring one into a world in which she would not love them. Well, love was a tricky thing too.

Mymble was quite full of love, she had plenty to give and she was happy to give it. She might not have been the same little girl that she once was, but she never lost her brightness. If Mymble had had children, then she would probably love them, sure, but the thought of it made her a bit pale. 

“An odd Mymble am I.” Said she, and flipped a page in the stolen sketchbook to begin drawing again.

And so was a home made by children? Mymble wondered. There had been no children on the Oshun Oxtra nor the island colonies other than herself. Perhaps the island ghost had counted, he acted fairly childishly at times. Mymble smiled at the thought, for the island ghost had lived an admirable life. Or perhaps he had lived an admirable death! Mymble laughed for a moment at the thought of it, and was quite glad that the very subject of her laughter was not around. He would have rattled chains at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mymble caught the old creature that she had met once before staring from his own window. He was every bit as frightfully old as he had been the last time she saw him, if not more so. He stared at her and Mymble imagined he was quite displeased for one reason or another. She turned to wave and the old thing shut his blinds very forcefully.

What fun neighbors Mymble had. 

Even with the old creature’s eyes turned elsewhere, Mymble still felt she was being stared at. She closed the sketchbook carefully and pocketed her charcoal, craning her head to look over all the other tall houses. All other such creatures were asleep, Mymble knew, and so what was it that caused the hairs on her paws to rise?

At once Mymble had a little moment of remembering, and all claims of unease that had fallen onto her left about as easily as they had came. She turned to the ocean, sure enough beyond the rock surrounded by sheets of ice was the eyes of a sea creature. Said creature who peaked with yellowed eyes and murky skin, almost blended in behind the similarly grey rock.

Upon being caught with one's paws in the cookie jar, a child quite often did one of two things. They ran, or invited their would be tattle tail so that they might rather be a partner in crime. This creature had not done so much running as one would think, and in fact, they raised a paw tentatively to wave Mymble over.

Many times when mymble had caught a younger sibling with their paws in the cookie jar, most times in a literal sense, she had put her paws in the jaw as well. If her mother had been mad than the woman had never been mad for more than times worth in the width of a hair. Besides, The Mymble mother was not there to advise her Mymble daughter not too, not that she would have either way.

Mymble did not even really have to shrug, she had already begun to walk out onto the ice. Her steps were not so shaky for a woman who might have fallen through, she had faith enough in the strength of the ice. She also had a fair amount of faith in her capabilities, those of swimming to be precise.

The dull thudding of her red boots came to a close when she finally hopped up onto the ocean rock and leaned forward over it. As she had figured they might, the creature had broken up a jagged hole through the ice behind the rock. They beat their tail rapidly to keep their upper body above the water, though as Mymble had come forward with such careless energy, they sunk back a bit.

The shyness of the other was not surprising to Mymble, she recognized it easily as a boundless and bright cunningness. Perhaps it had fooled her the first time, but the way that the creature beckoned her down further was nothing short of repetitive. Mymble knew this song and dance, many of her dresses shared lower neck lines with all the lace that this little thing had been grabbing. Only a silly bright creature would think themselves to smart to fool her every single time with the same exact trick.

And yet, Mymble leaned down lower. She schooled the knowingness out of her expression and pretended to be very very surprised when the shy wide eyes of the little thing slimmed in a pleased glint.

As it had many times since the first, the creature surged upwards and with one clawed paw, ripped the lace free from her neckline. It was gone within a wink after that.

Mymble stayed crouched over the hole, smelling the salt of the still and sleeping ocean. It was nearly black underneath the ice. Oddly familiar and yet so thoroughly unknown. The ocean by the rock that Mymble saw everyday as she woke, it was never the same ocean.

She sighed and smiled again, leaning back to sit for a while. There was nothing wrong with nurturing a bit of brightness in others, she hadn't any need for extra laces on extra dresses. It did not even really cost her anything besides a cold chest. From underneath her armpit Mymble took the sketchbook again and sat crisscrossed.

Her bottom was cold for it was a bit of an uncomfortable rock, especially on a winter day, but it was not snowing and so she would sit. Mymble recalled how the creature looked as it swam away beneath the ice. Like the shadow of a snake, nearly completely obscured. She sketched it tepidly, over a failed drawing of her house. 

Sketchbook closed, Mymble stood and felt very tall. Behind her stood a cluster of tall houses with sleepy creatures inside. Mymble was not asleep at all, she felt very much awake and the exhaustion of waking through the winter had not once set in. She turned her eyes to the sky which had become grey and overcast, and she felt a way that she had not really felt before.

Mymble was constantly changing.

Changing her clothes and her loves, her hobbies and her living spaces. She changed her opinions and her feelings, her appearance changed as she grew and so did her heart. If one asked her how she felt about the sky they need only pick a day to ask it, for she would surely have a differing answer the very next. She changed around the sun, who did not change at all. 

And she was not afraid of these things. They made her all the more free.

Mymble had changed her shoes a while ago. But she had not changed them again since that time. 

If there had been someone awake to ask her how she felt about the sky then, on that day where she stood so tall and so free. Mymble would have said that it reminded her of her friends pretty eyes, and she would have grinned beyond her control.

The young woman hopped off the rock with absolutely none of the caution that one might have had they been in her same position. The ice might have cracked a bit under the pressure, but she did not fall in, not that Mymble noticed either way. She was busy once again in thought, it had never occurred to her to be afraid of falling into the water.

As mymble walked to her front door and opened it, the scent of stew was pleasant on her nose. She was pleased that it hadn't somehow caught on fire in the time she left it to cook, not that Mymble had had that many kitchen fires. Enough for a Mymble though, and she did not look to increase the number.

Mymble had laid out a nicer dress over her couch and quickly she threw the old one off and slipped the new one on. It was a practiced ease, helped by the fact that the dresses were not so tight around the chest as they might be for a younger creature. Mymble had to actually be able to get her out of hers without the help of another, her younger siblings would no doubt abuse that power if they had it. 

She floated off towards the kitchen, slipping her red boots off randomly along the way. Mymble’s anxious paws sliced bread and put out butter, she was not entirely sure why she might get so out of sorts for a dinner shared with Too-ticky. The urge to take her hair down and put it back up was becoming too strong to ignore. Luckily three knocks on her door allowed Mymble to put aside her anxious energy and simply smile.

She opened the door widely and felt herself exclaim beyond necessary volume.

“Ticky!”

“Mymlan.” Too-ticky greeted her with a full fledged grin.

A leather strap shifted on Too-ticky’s shoulder as the woman tilted her head upwards in her warm greeting. On her back was a guitar, to Mymble’s utter delight.

Mymble rushed back inside and picked the sketchbook off of the table, which sported a new tablecloth. Though new was a misleading descriptor, it was new to Mymble’s house and yet oh so old to the world. 

Too-ticky had closed the door behind her and began to set down her instrument and Mymble flipped open to the page that she had drawn the creature on. Tapping in offhandedly as if to say ‘yes, there it is’.

“I've tried to capture their likeness yet again. You wouldn't happen to know who this is would you?” Mymble asked.

“I can't quite tell.” Too-ticky admitted, and then leaned in closer, “This is a very wonderful drawing though.”

Mymble turned to look at it herself and hummed, the house had ended up crooked on this picture before she abandoned the attempt, “It is alright I suppose, not quite what I was going for.”

“Hum.” Too-ticky mimicked, “And yet I find it quite wonderful all the same.”

“You do huh?” Mymble gave a sideways smile and put the thing down again.

She walked back to the kitchen once again to pick up a set of bowls and silverware. Too-ticky had gone to the table to continue to look at the drawing, seeing her hunched over the little sketch made Mymble’s face heat just a bit. It was so oddly meaningful to her, and yet also very revealing. For a frozen moment, Mymble looked at Too-ticky looking at her art, as if the other woman was a piece of art herself.

Then time unfroze, and Mymble breathed out, reminding her silly self of a simple truth. Of course Too-ticky truly meant that she had liked it, Mymble did not know why she had ever doubted the fact in the first place.

The bowls we're set across from each other, Mymble had wanted to feel warm sitting by her friend, but she had wanted to see the other woman’s face more. She set out the silverware with a private smile, which was a rarer thing for her than she might have admitted.

Mymble didn't pride herself on being a private girl, she was not mysterious though she had perhaps boasted so once or twice in misguided youth, (didn't every creature?). What she felt, she bared it to the world, be it her tears or her crushes. She was, in fact, so open that she at times forgot that she could even be private. Things that a woman might have kept to herself, Mymble thought those quite valuable and precious.

“It is a bit of a lonely picture, but that's sort of an interesting thing.” Too-ticky said distractedly, oh so unaware of the smiles she could have caught.

“Thank you.” Mymble said in quite a genuine tone. “It was more of an accident that I put the creature there.”

“Hum.” Said Too-ticky again, still looking.

It reminded Mymble of the book that she had been reading, still all such time passed and she had not finished it. The love interest might have smiled privately once or twice and thought that the protagonist had not caught it when in reality they had been watching the whole time. Such a concept had once caused Mymble to put a book face down and place one paw over her eyes and another over her heart. 

As it stood then, she found it truly stupid. It was much nicer that she might just watch her friend and admire. Did everything have to be performed? Mymble found that the same thing that had caused her to move past purely romance novels had wormed its way into just plain stories in general. They really weren't natural enough for her, and she was quite an expert on love.

Finally, Too-ticky sat down in front of her bowl. She moved to stand when Mymble left to grab the pot of stew but Mymble shot her a look.

“I've got it dear friend,” Mymble said somewhat exasperated, “I promise I won't drop it.”

Too-ticky laughed a bit, “I swear I wasn't trying to insult your honor. Besides, a bit of help in the kitchen is perhaps sweeter than the meal.”

“Terrible wisdom, don't you have anything else?” Mymble joked as she placed the pot down, “It reminds me why my mother had me do so many chores.”

“Afraid not. Did you really not like living with The Mymble mother?” Too-ticky asked, serving herself.

Mymble paused to think for a bit. She hadn't hated it, but it was not her lifestyle of course. It wasn't really her mother’s lifestyle either, the woman was freer than a bird. And yet, it wasn't as if the responsibility had been shrugged onto Mymble either, for her mother was a very capable woman. Really, Mymble felt that perhaps she complained a bit too often for how leniently she really was raised. After all, her mother would never be angry if Mymble didn't do the chores, she simply did them because she could.

“No.” Mymble admitted after some deliberation, “It is only, I figure most Mymbles go off on their own anyways. I love my mom and my siblings, I'm still not really sure why I have struck out in my particular way.”

“Perhaps there is no reason.” Too-ticky said, “Some things do not need to be explained.”

“Very right.” Mymble agreed, and served herself stew to punctuate the fact.

Mymble was very tempted to talk around the food that she had begun to shovel into her mouth, manners be damned, but she thought better of it after a glance upwards. Too-ticky looked quite warm under the lamp that hung above them. Mymble caught her own reflection in the chrome of the pot of stew, she felt it unremarkable. 

All the fussing she had done previously, combing her hair and picking out a pretty dress, it didn't really matter to her as she sat in the simple silence. Mymble hadn't the need to look at herself, she had practically forgotten that she even inhabited a physical space. It all went out the window with Too-ticky, who didn't really seem to notice Mymble staring as she ate. 

Mymble rested a paw underneath her chin, the motion garnering the attention of her friend. Too-ticky looked up and scrunched up her nose at Mymble, who scrunched her nose up back. Too-ticky mirrored her, a paw under the chin, and pointed a spoon towards her friend casually.

“You've got something on your mind.” She said, although not entirely accusatory.

“Again, very right.” Mymble said simply.

“I'm glad for that,” Too-ticky returned to eating her stew, “I really like to hear what you have to say.”

“How charming!” Mymble exclaimed quite honestly. 

The lovely reddish light only served to make Too-ticky appear warmer, though she got a bit red in the face as well. Mymble felt that she had made a mistake in setting their places across from each other, she would have loved to have embraced Too-ticky in that moment. 

“Though, it is not entirely a dinner topic. I'll tell you if you build me a fire in my fireplace?” Mymble smiled.

“I’d have helped either way.” Too-ticky huffed out a small piece of laughter.

“Yes but you’d have expected me to help, wouldn't you have?” asked Mymble.

“Maybe.” Too-ticky gave, “There is no way to really tell what I may have done.”

It was very true. There were many ways that one might change, and though they did not realize it, most would never stop changing. With every choice and interaction, every fact learned, one became much different than they were before. It was not just Mymbles and Mumriks who liked to be free, though they were quite good examples. Every creature changed as they grew, even a Fillyjonk or a Hemulen. It was not something that Mymble herself really knew, she was not one to ponder it, and it didn't make her especially crueler not to.

Most creatures could not see it anyways, not in others nor themselves. It was quite useless to wonder what one might have done had they been presented with a problem that they did not solve. There was no way of truly knowing what a stranger might have done, the only way to guess would be to assume that the stranger was very similar to one’s current self.

Change was constant, it was breezy and at times quite cold. At the same time a creature could not just change and change beyond recognition or control, there was a certain warmth that they retained. A balancing act, Mymble was quite fond of such things, or perhaps such dedicated balance was akin to ballet. Mymble had liked ballet once, it was a passing interest of a time long forgotten in a silly little unhappy stream. She had forgotten the interest that she had once held for it, but Mymble still walked like a dancer. You see,

As much as one changes, one also stays the same.

“I've no idea what that one means.” Mymble laughed boisterously.

Too-ticky blinked and laughed herself, apologizing offhandedly at the cryptic wording. Surely she would have had Mymble help, they both decided, and left it at that. Finishing their meals with more familiar chatter.

Eventually they both stood, leaving their dishes for another time, and walked to the living room. Most things that Mymble had procured we're second hand, her ratty carpet and dusty old fire poker for example, but her blanket was new. She thought that it was an awfully nice blanket, it would simply be rude of her not to share it with her friend. Even if Mymble had not cared about being rude before.

Too-ticky had finished starting a fire and sat down with Mymble, who lifted the blanket to invite the other woman closer. Too-ticky accepted the invitation easily and they settled in on a cold winter night.

“What was it that you had to say?” Too-ticky asked.

“I worry. About the invisible child that is.” Mymble replied and went on, “How cumbersome it is to call them ‘The Invisible Child’ each time.” 

Too-ticky gave pause and sighed, looking at the old ratty carpet, “They have said that they are too afraid to give their name or anything else.”

“Oh.” Mymble bit her lip. “How terrible. If they cannot even speak their own name, what if they forget it?”

Too-ticky’s eyebrows knit together and her grip around the blanket tightened. She looked more distressed than Mymble had seen her in quite a while. For a terrible moment, she even thought that the other woman might begin to cry. 

It dawned on Mymble then, that the wait for winter to end might have been taking a bigger toll on her friend than she had realized. It felt wrong, obviously, Mymble hated to wait, but what had it felt like to Too-ticky? Had it been agonizing? Did she think about it constantly? Mymble found that she wanted to ease the other woman’s suffering, if only just a little. She wanted Too-ticky to be happy.

She wanted to make Too-ticky happy.

“I'll do anything and everything to save them. We'll do it together, and then, they'll live the rest of their life safe and happy.” Mymble said sternly, looking into the other woman’s eyes as Too-ticky looked up.

“I bet they're a happy kid.” Mymble continued, her expression melting into a watery smile, “once they can be free to change, I'm sure they'll be one of those silly little children who tell their names to everyone.”

Too-ticky looked relieved and it made something in Mymble’s chest feel fluttery.

“Thank you Mymlan. I really need you.” Too-ticky said beyond a breath.

“It is nice to be needed.” Mymble said distractedly as a bomb went off inside of her head.

It made a heap of a lot more sense than she had thought it might, and was almost obvious in nature once she had considered it. Why she had dressed up and fussed, why she watched the sky with different eyes. The feeling that she had known a million times before and yet it was such a slippery little thing. As a self proclaimed expert of the topic, Mymble was almost embarrassed to realize that she had not known that she was entirely in love with Too-ticky.

Of course, of course she had been in love this whole time! She had only mistaken it for a longing for a best friend, how absolutely ridiculous that Mymble had never considered falling in love with a woman.

I, Mymble thought as she watched the other drift closer, am in love with you.

And she leaned forward too, reaching one paw outwards and beyond the soft feathery yellow hair of Too-ticky. Bumping her hat off, watching it roll to the floor out of the corner of her eye, Mymble laid her palm flat to the other woman.

“Can I kiss you?” Too-ticky asked a bit breathlessly.

“Oh,” Said Mymble distractedly, “should I say no?” and laughed in a small way, snorting and giggling at the question.

Mymble leaned the rest of the way forward, laying a light kiss on Too-ticky’s lips. It made the fluttery feeling in her chest warmer and more distracting. It was such a nice feeling. Mymble scooted forward and rested her other paw on Too-ticky’s shoulder, pressing another kiss where she had left the last.

Too-ticky was a bit stiff, the paw on her shoulder rubbed a trail from the nape of her neck back down to it's previous resting place. She did her best to melt into Mymble, who scooted closer again and continued to lay kisses down for her. Too-ticky kissed her back, nudging forwards. She was a nice pressure on Mymble’s own lips, it made her heart beat a bit faster.

It was not a kiss to end all kisses, it was not groundbreaking and it was not Mymble’s first kiss. It was nothing special, and yet, that was a bit of the magic of it. To share something like it with Too-ticky, Mymble was nearly overjoyed. The old spark of love that had eluded Mymble seemingly all winter sprung to life again and lit something up inside of her. She had been in love the whole time, something about the situation made Mymble smile so hard that the two broke apart.

“Have you liked me this whole time?” Mymble asked, slightly prideful.

“I almost thought you knew Mymlan, it was every so hard when you walk around with the necks of your dresses torn off.”

Mymble guffawed and let herself fall into the other woman’s arms.

“How silly are we,” she said, laying there and feeling the vibrations of silent laughter from her friend, “I have been in love with you this whole time too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh im so sorry for not updating in so long... i have a whole host of excuses as well but it mostly comes down to me having multiple art commissions to do. ill do my best to update in a timely manner again, thanks for reading <3


	10. Dessous

It was easily dark when Mymble woke, though she was quite sure that it was the morning. The perks of winter would have been that she might not be woken by the sun, though it meant nothing when she was woken instead by her own heart. 

As soon as Mymble had figured she was in love, she had tipped the rest of the way overboard. She had never been known to fall so slowly as she had with Too-ticky, and that had been only a month still. In Mymble’s own mind she felt there was lost time to make up for, and she was not shy about the fact.

Not shy at all, Mymble repeated in her mind, and began to tiptoe down the stairs. She bypassed the kitchen to look peer over the couch in her living room. There laid Too-ticky, who had slept over and insisted on taking the couch.

Mymble bent over the edge, her undone hair reaching just a nails width away from the face of the other woman. Too-ticky looked soft in her sleep, her whole body resting, a plain look on her face. Oh how Mymble wished to kiss her.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Mymble whispered under her breath.

For one, she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet. Mymble slowly rose again and began to quietly walk to her bathroom. Perhaps it was a bit odd for her to ogle Too-ticky while she slept, but Mymble had been struck with a strong pull. A desire to confirm if perhaps she was still dreaming, though Mymble supposed that was not the entire reason.

The door of Mymble’s bathroom closed with a squeak behind her, she grit her teeth at it. She was not very used to being so careful in her own house. Or, was it a home? Mymble resolved not to bother with the old question and began to get ready. After all, she was still quite drawn to being close to her friend, or, well, girlfriend. 

It would do her no good to figure a dream from reality based on the other woman, Too-ticky would be there either way. Mymble smiled uncontrollably in the mirror, her heart squeezed and she thought about love again. To her, it felt like saying hello to an old friend. Mymble absentmindedly tied her hair up and resisted the urge to sing.

Down the stairs again, Mymble counted the steps and nearly skipped around the couch. The other woman laid there in a simple type of way, her sweater bunching around her neck and her hair splayed wildly, sticking up in all places without a hat to cover it. Too-ticky looked quite soft, and Mymble found that she was cross for not having demanded they slept in the same bed.

The couched dipped some as Mymble sat on the edge. An overwhelming fondness bloomed within her, starting in her chest and spreading to the palms of her paws. They buzzed with an embarrassed warmth that had Mymble grinning beyond her control. She laid down, propped uncomfortably on the edge of the old couch, her nose just a hair's width from another.

Like the faucet of the sink, Mymble felt those indescribable feelings pour out, she really couldn’t help herself but to run her fingers through her love’s hair. It was coarse and stiff from the salty air that she spent so much time in. Mymble never wanted to take her paw away. Not a moment later, Too-ticky’s eyes blinked open and Mymble’s smile burst back into a grin.

“Good morning.” Mymble whispered.

Too-ticky brought a paw of between them and held it to her mouth as she laughed. She used the other one to tuck a stray strand of Mymble’s hair behind her ear.

“Good morning.” Too-ticky said behind the paw.

There was no spluttering nor uncertainty, for Mymble, there never really had been. Perhaps she had been more coy in previous relationships, but it was more a factor of her flirtatiousness than of any unsure footing. Mymble kissed the back of Too-ticky’s paw where the other woman’s lips would have been, and she did so as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

For a pale woman such as Too-ticky, she couldn't hide much of her reddish blush. It seemed there was little holding her back from just covering her whole face, though this was much to Mymble’s delight. Mymble, who let out an endeared squeal, sitting up straight in the blink of an eye with her paws on either cheek, wanted to save the moment forever.

The theatrics only caused Too-ticky to quietly turn redder.

“I think I might use the bathroom.” Too-ticky took a deep breath and released a flustered sigh, barely containing her smile.

Mymble watched the other woman go and could barely contain her own smile, seeing Too-ticky as she was. To Mymble, the other woman was so calm and unbothered. So it was perhaps a bit too gratifying to watch Too-ticky be flustered, and only a little mean of Mymble to want to do it much more. The thought of it made Mymble giddy, her lips wobbly and mouth tilted in an attempt not to grin to herself like a lunatic. Too late for that though, she supposed.

Still dressed in a nightgown, Mymble walked to the kitchen and began to get out a few pans. She put them down over the stove and paused, placing a paw to her chest and feeling the soft fabric there. Beyond that was her. And deeper yet, was something fun.

Mymble was not scared, she didn't even feel as though she might be taking a leap. There was nothing crazy or frightening about this, she thought. It was as if she had been dancing alone on her tippy toes, the music stayed the same, but another came along. She only took their paws and began to dance on flat feet.

It was exciting, Mymble felt, and the beating of her heart reflected it. She wondered if she might still dance ballet, though it did not really matter. She was not terribly attached to many things, a distant dream a young girl had once had was no different.

The stove had been burning embers when Mymble bent to shove more splintering logs in. She was thankful she wouldn't have to restart it, but it would still take a while for the pan to heat up. Mymble padded up the stairs to her own bed and pulled the nightgown over her head. She had laid out a dress the night before, which really wasn't something that she would do unless she was dating.

The dress was fine, another striped, red, collared thing, but Mymble didn't especially feel pulled to it. She left it there with the crumpled nightgown and opened an old wooden draw noisily. It fell out most of the way and dipped downwards at the end for the weight of her clothes did it no favors. Mymble dug through dresses upon dresses, making them into a mess of fabric and lace. 

Hair raised on her knuckles and arms, it was quite cold in the lonely attic room, and Mymble shivered once. She shoved the drawer closed and kneeled to open another with roughly the same results. 

She always got like this. Mymble was awfully choosey with what she wore while trying to impress a boy, seemed it was the same with everyone she fell in love with. Not a terrible thing, though it was frustrating at times, more so for others. The sun did not alter its path for it was an obstinate thing, bright like a flash of something silver that caught Mymble’s eye. 

A shiny metal button, Mymble pulled the owner of it forward by a sleeve to look. To her surprise it was not a dress at all. The old thing was striped, the front opening up like a vest. Underneath it was a loose, white buttoned shirt, Mymble pulled that part free and tried it on. She sat for a moment and thought to herself, there is nothing wrong with a little change, then smiled. 

Down the stairs, Mymble fastened a bow underneath her collar as she walked. Around the corner and in the kitchen Too-ticky had begun to cook fish, her hair sufficiently tamed. Though that wasn't to say that it did not stick up in all odd angles, Mymble was sure that the other woman’s hair simply did not lay flat. The sight of her with her sleepy eyes and the slight slump of her shoulders was enough to make Mymble’s heart squeeze again.

One might think that it didn't take much, but that was simply not true. To the surprise of many, Mymble’s heart had very high standards. It was only that much of the world was very lovable, and so she was quite prone to falling in love.

“This is very domestic don't you think?” Mymble laughed, “Almost too much so!”

Too-ticky smiled in a way that was a bit hard to describe, she did so as if there was something going on behind her eyes, at the very least the look of it let Mymble know that Too-ticky was thinking about something. The other woman must have had many things in her mind, and perhaps she was all the more wise for which thoughts she chose to speak.

“I suppose that it is,” She said, pushing the fish around the pan, “is it a bad thing?” 

“No I don't believe it is.” Mymble said thoughtfully, and walked forward to rest against the counter beside the other.

“Does it make you happy?” Too-ticky asked with her eyes on the food.

“It does.” Mymble felt her tone was weighted, without really meaning too she felt the importance of the statement in her words, “I am so happy to love you.” 

With Mymbles warm gaze on her, Too-ticky barely brought a paw up her her heart before putting it down and out to the side. Mymble took it in her own and rubbed her thumb so lightly over the other that it barely felt like anything. Somehow it was the strongest she had ever held someone in her life. 

“I really love you too.” Too-ticky said plainly, and still it made Mymble’s heart soar.

“This makes me happy, but it isn't everything you know?” Mymble said, “I'm not sure what's missing though, is that odd?”

“Is it?” Too-ticky glanced at her teasingly.

“So helpful of you.” Mymble spoke flatly.

Though it was a bit helpful, Mymble knew. She wouldn't admit that though, she was loath to give her girlfriend any more excuses to be ornery. Still, she supposed it was not really so odd afterall, to want more than just staying home and eating. There was more that she wanted, and Mymble knew that the feeling was more than likely mutual.

Mymble leaned forward and placed a kiss on Too-ticky’s lips, it felt like a homely thing. With the kiss came the urge to tell the other woman everything she could. To become so much closer, to trust Too-ticky with any secret.

“You've been eating as you cook.” Mymble said instead.

“Guilty.” Too-ticky said simply back.

They both laughed at that.

Mymble squeezed the other’s paw before releasing it to walk further into the kitchen. She took two plates and set them out onto a table. Not to long after Too-ticky slid the breakfast onto each plate. They sat next to each other, seats pushed closer so that Mymble might lean ever so slightly onto Too-ticky. 

“I must wonder sometimes, if I am a defective Mymble,” She said around the food in her mouth, and then went on as Too-ticky tilted her head, “no husband, not very interested in children.”

The other paused and put her fork down, resting her chin on a paw to look at Mymble more easily. Mymble quirked a smile and put her own fork down a bit dramatically, mirroring Too-ticky’s posture. 

“There is no defective way to be oneself,” Too-Ticky said, “you can only ever be yourself, there's no one else to be.”

“And what if I were Ms. Fillyjonk?” Mymble teased.

Too-ticky smiled, “Then you would be Ms. Fillyjonk.”

Mymble looked to the ceiling in a falsely thoughtful type of way. She tapped her chin and stuck out her tongue, pretending to be deep in thought. Too-ticky watched amusedly, her shoulders shaking a bit with quiet laughter.

“And what if I were a ‘Too-ticky’?” Mymble said in a nasal tone.

“Then you would be a ‘Too-ticky’!” She laughed out the reply.

Mymble gasped in false shock, “No! Really?”

“Aye.” The other woman grinned, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes.

“A Snufkin?” Said she

“If you were one than you might be one, aye.” replied the other, who had adopted the falsely thoughtful and facetious tone of her lover.

“Certainly not.” Mymble laughed.

“I am afraid so.” Too-ticky laughed with her, and then quieted in a soft sort of way, “but you are Mymlan. Not a one on this planet can tell you what to do.”

Her words were almost reverent, in their softness. Underneath them lie the conviction and truth that came with everything Too-ticky said. The way she said it, Mymble felt, was in the same way that she would say something profound. The same reverence that Too-ticky might pay something truly important.

It struck her differently, hearing those words. All the laughter was far away, and quite suddenly, Mymble found herself staring wide eyed. She had told herself the same many times, and perhaps even more times had she thought it subconsciously. It was something she was proud of, another thing that she very much liked about herself, and yet-

She had never thought that someone else might admire it in her. 

Perhaps she had even forgotten that others perceived her, she was afterall, very much dedicated to disregarding the silly opinions of others. In that haze of confidence, it seemed that she had forgotten that the world was warm, that creatures were kind. Among those who looked at her and scoffed, perhaps there were those who looked and admired.

Mymble picked up the fork and twirled it absentmindedly, her own eyes on her lap then. 

“I see,” she said, with no real inflection, and stole a piece of fish from Too-ticky’s plate.

Too-ticky took a piece from Mymble’s plate not a second later, and they both snorted out funny bits of laughter. The quiet reverence was broken, but it was not such a terrible loss. In the dark morning, at warm table, the laughter was welcomed like a guest.

As the two resumed eating, Mymble spoke again, “It is not always such a good thing you know,” she said, easy and considering.

“Being willful?” Too-ticky asked around her own food.

“Well, that's up for debate, but I was thinking, if you are always yourself, it becomes possible that you could be bad.” Her fork scraped against the plate, “It's really up to you isn't it? To be good despite all odds.” 

The other woman hummed but she did not answer. Mymble felt she probably agreed anyways. A small fruit fly traced an imaginary figure eight in the air in front of her, Mymble waved it off without very much dedication to the action. It dipped in the displaced air and floated off elsewhere, too small for Mymble to track, especially not in the dimmed winter darkness. She had resolved to leave the lights mostly off, an old superstition, though no creature would call her silly for it.

In the winter, tales of a wretched thing laid among most unconscious minds, and was spoken through the shakey mouths of those who walked in the waking world. She would be much more likely to wander to a bright light in the dead of winter, so the story went. While Mymble had seen The Groke perhaps once in her life, she had heard the creature’s wailing a number of times, and enjoyed both experiences the same amount, that was to say very little. 

Yet such tales were they! Mymble had not been shy of sharing the stories with Too-ticky before, to which the woman has spoken of her own. It made painful sense to Mymble that her love, as world wise as she was, would have much more detailed and harrowing experiences with The Groke. Still, there was a terrifying feeling that Mymble felt. If only briefly, she had worried for the past which has already come and gone, though it made no sense, she had worried for Too-ticky. 

While she sat and finished her meal, those fears were far away. So alien that Mymble could not even particularly remember the feeling of them. Though it was dim around her, and darker yet in the world outside, it was not particularly hard for Mymble to take hold of the warmth in her chest. 

“I don't believe there will be any sign of The Groke this winter.” Mymble said absently.

“How do you figure?” Too-ticky asked lightly.

“Just a feeling,” came the reply, which felt as impermanent as it was airy, a paw waving outwards to shake off some worrisome fly. Displacing the dim scene in front of her, like it was salt, swirling in the tide.

“Mymlan,” Too-ticky asked, to which she received a reply in the form of warm paws on her own free one. “No one is quite meant to be, they can't be told to act as they should, there is no way that a creature must act.” 

Mymble tilted her head with a small smile, the point of her love’s words were just touching on the edges of her understanding. But she had been waiting for that, the moment that Too-ticky might decide to share the yawning thoughts that had been going through her head. 

To say she understood, Mymble would be quite the ravishing liar, but she did not quite have too. Odds were she would hang onto every word of Too-tickys until the end of time anyways.

“If every creature were their nature and nothing else, the world would be quite cruel.” She finished, words becoming tiny but pithy near the end.

Mymble thought on it and laid her head on Too-ticky’s shoulder, and opened her mouth.

Space was no enemy of Mymble, although she did not treat it with as much reverence as she might have the quiet. She wanted to be close, physically, and she wanted to walk to the same beat. To comprehend the more complicated things that her love said, and be close in that way. Still there was a distance between them, one that she knew she would not always be aware of, and made peace. 

“The world is much too fond of silly little coincidences to be so contrived.” Mymble said, and figured that to be closer, one had to walk forward first, no matter the unsteadiness of the ground.

“Aye.” Too-ticky agreed, brushing loose hairs away from Mymble’s face.

While they had officially become girlfriends, nothing else had changed terribly from before. Mymble placed the plates into the sink and Too-ticky pulled papers from a bag that laid strewn beside the couch where she had slept. The table became a bit more serious, the spotlight of a lamp outlined it as maps began to coat it's surface. The light would not be on so long, Mymble reasoned with herself, and she had declared The Groke to be a no show anyways.

The dishes could be washed later, Mymble stood the side opposite of Too-ticky as she looked up. Behind a curtain of blond hair, her eyes were firm. Mymble felt the same determination in herself that she read in her love.

It was still morning, Mymble could tell, and they had precious little time to waste. 

“I've been reading the stars, on clearer nights,” Too-ticky began, “and made a map, coded, so that it can't be read.” 

“So the invisible child is going over the ocean? For sure?” Mymble asked.

“Aye, my friends will take care of them there, and it's unsafe for them to remain here.” She paused and the determination fractured for a moment, “They said that they would be alright like that…” Too-ticky lifted a blank page to the light above them and the shadows of letters splayed down onto the odd map.

She seemed pained, if only a little, and Mymble could only assume it was the guilt of not being able to help the child any sooner. The ghostly letters cast down from an invisible message confirmed Too-ticky’s words, the message read:

‘Dear You. Anywhere is fine. I'm alright waiting. It's okay if your forget by the spring. From Me.’

Mymble could understand the underlying sadness in Too-ticky’s posture, it was not an incredibly placating note. Yet, they had all been like that, to some degree. Of those that Mymble had read, she ventured a guess that the child was young. Young enough to misspell simple words but old enough to realize the words misspelling and cross them out.

Overall, the words that spoke of the rescuee’s feelings rested on the summation of their rescue, contrasting the intricate coded map with it's simple and dull message. It could not have been the invisible child’s true feelings, Mymble knew, there was no way that they could possibly stay a second longer in that house than they must. Yet, they had asked for Too-ticky not to rush, as if she did not want too.

It was disingenuous, and not much could be gleaned from it other than the fact that the child was still alive. Mymble felt as Too-ticky had, unsure, there could be no way to tell if the child was alright living across the ocean anyways. 

As soon as Too-ticky had begun to place the letter back down again, Mymble walked to the umbrella stand and pulled out what she needed. The axe was heavy in her arms, the wooden handle was unsplintered for it had never once been used before. She hefted it onto the table, carefully angled away from the papers.

“I've borrowed it.” Mymble confirmed, “My neighbor will not use it anyways, I can't imagine she’ll be too upset.”

Too-ticky nodded in acknowledgement, and then became a bit more thoughtful, “Are you sure that you’ll want to come, once the boat is built?” she asked.

“Of course!” Mymble smiled, “We’ve already decided to build it for three anyways, and I am no stranger to an adventure.”

The other woman breathed in, accepting it tacitly. “You are not,” She agreed, “I guess I'm just, well,” Too-ticky paused.

“I don't receive much help, when I do these types of things… I’m not used to it.”

Mymble lifted the axe to rest on her shoulder, back straight, blinding grin, “Get used to it.” She said, without much sympathy.

The sun had begun to peak forward a bit though the windows. Unbroken slivers of light spilling onto the floor. 

The two young women went out, Mymble holding the door as Too-ticky went after. It was much to dim by any creatures standards, though Mymble made very sure not to stumble. It would be disastrous for her to stumble with the sharpened axe.

It had begun to snow, ever so lightly, and the small flakes collected on top of a striped umbrella that Too-ticky held above their heads. How quiet it was, broken only by the crunching of snow underneath each step. They set out across the sand and onto the frozen sea, walking without a word towards the bathhouse. 

Time was spared by the sun, a few hours each day, to sweep over the sleepy ground. Melting as much snow as it could before falling below the horizon again, and in the night that snowmelt turned to ice again. And again, the snow fell over that ice, shrouding it in an unknowing blanket. The effect was a fairly different looking landscape, nearly alien to Mymble. The sea looked like miles and miles of flat ground, trees hung over as they were weighed down by the tips with icicles.

The world was intensely cold those days. Brisk and freezing air sometimes gave her a light head, which was a problem in and of itself. For, if not for her head full of rocks, then what would prevent Mymble from floating away?

Mymble laughed to herself, and Too-ticky smiled because of it. The world was intensely cold, but a bit warmer with someone holding another’s umbrella.

They walked, dull footsteps over the frozen sea. It was not such a thick layer of ice, but neither woman seemed much to care. Too-ticky had begun to sing, it was the only sound above the whistling wind.

“I've heard it said that a Mymble has smiles that are infectious, aye,”

“On coldest days they even cause the brain to fry, so,”

“If you fall in love with one, the lottery it seems you’ve won,”

“Cause my Mymlan warms my heart while I’m at sea.”

The last throaty call of her song was drawn out and dramatic, at least, it seemed that way to Mymble herself. Still, she could not hide the bright grin on her face as her love looked up from behind her windswept hair. Too-ticky was not so reserved to be secretive in the way she looked up, she was quite obviously looking for a reaction. 

And oh! How badly mymble wanted to tease the woman with a straight face. As it stood she just leaned down and kissed her.

While they both sported toothy smiles, it was a less than optimal thing, but that did not stop either woman. Too-ticky put her paws on either side of Mymble’s head, holding her gently, warming her bright red ears. They smiled into each other, in a failure of a kiss that was so so beautiful.

Too beautiful, perhaps, as the loud thump against the ice below them startled Mymble into a shrill shriek. She had made the snap inference that the ground where they stood had begun to give and in her panic she fell on her bottom behind herself. Too-ticky was similarly startled, though she had only jumped back and clutched her chest. Perhaps she had been too shocked to even scream! Mymble hoped that for her own pride.

Down under the ice another thump rang out, both women unable to take their eyes away from the ice there. Sure enough another thump sounded, and then a chorus of knocks. Mymble crouched over the area that had produced such offensive sounds, low and behold, the creature that had been stealing her lace all winter.

They smiled up and waved. Thank everything dear that she had worn pants that day.

It only took Mymble a bit of a delay to remember her words.

“I should be struck down if I rightfully deserved that, but I do not believe that I did!”

“Careful dear,” Too-ticky began,

“Not another word.”

The creature swam in hazy circles under the ice, showing off to the two above. Soon enough they disappeared into the dark black water, deeper down than a young woman would ever want. Though, who was to deny the ocean an occasional visit? 

Me, thought Mymble, and stood up.

“I had thought they would go off now that the ocean is so cold here.” Mymble shakily linked her arm in Too-ticky’s, who snickered quietly.

“Not The Pelastaja. A very tricky type they are.”

Mymble saw the grey outline of the bathhouse beyond them, she quietly missed the longer and more roundabout walks. Of course it was nice to be places quickly, but how lovely it was to go anywhere with someone she loved. Of course, Mymble would continue to be by Too-ticky’s side even after they had finished their walks, but she was hopelessly romantic in that aspect. Who cared for sense, what could she make of that?

“And you’ve spoken to them?” Mymble asked, shifting the axe on her poor shoulder, it had smarted a bit to keep the handle there when she had fallen.

“Aye. They are quite shy, and not one for consequences.” Too-ticky answered.

“That much is clear, they’ve not stayed one single time after every little prank they’ve pulled.” Mymble laughed

“Oh so you're acquainted?” Too-ticky said mirthfully.

The wind had begun to die down, and it became a sort of dry cold out. Too-ticky leaned more heavily into Mymble’s side. The winter was lovely for that reason, Mymble thought, and took her arm back to place over her love’s shoulder.

“Hardly.” Said Mymble, “I did not even know they could speak.”

“You are too much of you for them.” Too-ticky shrugged, had she not been so honest all the time Mymble might have taken some offense.

“That’s no matter.”

It was inevitable that some creatures would not like each other. Or even that they just could not understand one another enough to speak. It wasn’t entirely selfish, at least not in an easy to understand way. One should never change themselves for another, Mymble knew that from many years spent falling in love. 

The warm reds and greens of the bathhouse windows we're visible then, though there was not very much light to shine through them.

A life spent pleasing and doing nothing but pleasing was little more than a hunk of rocks, rocketing past the orbit and into the sun. They’d only burn up, they’d only become invisible in the frothing heat. No creature saw themselves as a star, shining out in an expanse of nothing, and they would be right not to make such a connection. Most little things were more balanced than that, they did not burn up and suck in all that might come close to them.

But there were some. Not to say that Mymble was one, perhaps she was bright, but she was nothing like a mindless ball of endless heat. She knew better, and that was the difference. Even if the gravity of herself would push another away, it was better than to collide and hurt them both. Some creatures could not understand each other, and in Mymble’s mind, it was wiser to let them pass. 

She would’ve liked to say that had The Pelastaja has come to know her, than they would have seen that she was warm rather than burning, but she did not really know. She was not a perfect woman, and she accepted that long ago.

“I don’t mind silly pranks anyways.” Said she, “They remind me a bit of home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah nelly. It’s been a while. Sorry! Ive been struggling in college, the shit breaks you and all that. I know I’ve probably lost my whole audience cause of that but i still intend to finish this story. It means so much to me, gosh i really love it. Updates will probably be slow and all that. But once again i never really expected for anyone to read this fic so!

**Author's Note:**

> helo again : )
> 
> this fic is very self indulgent and probably not very interesting, im not gonna go at it with the same break neck pace i had on the mountain path but i am gonna give it just about as much love. i dont think this one will be very long, but it still will probably take me a hot second to complete. 
> 
> i do not believe this is gonna get much hype and im good w that, just understand that its what im spending my time on rn and pls be gentle with my heart. if you dont like mymbleticky than this fic is probably not for u....


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